Blood Singer
by Rhea Hiryuu
Summary: DISCONTINUED. War ravages a futuristic Nosgoth under Kain's tyranny. Rayne, a half-vampire blood witch, goes back in time to save her world, though her chances of success are small.
1. Rain of Coal

Summery: (SR2) War ravages a futuristic Nosgoth under Kain's tyranny. Rayne, a Dhampir and powerful blood witch with a long, if chaotic, life, goes back in time to save her world, though her chances of success are minute. Raziel/OC

&

A few million years ago, Nosgoth was on the brink of collapse. The empire which ruled over it with an iron fist was doomed from the beginning, it's said, and never really had a chance. The ancient texts tell of the fall of this empire, and the fall of the entire world. An apocalypse, so to speak, but one that was stopped just at the edge, pausing there, and being anchored down to that spot by someone or something.

That ancient empire was eradicated, and from its ashes there emerged the blood witches. They came in a time of crisis, their magic emerging out of a dire need, and awakening to the call of the earth itself. The ancient texts tell of how these women wiped away the remains of the doomed empire, turning them into ashes which they sent into Nosgoth itself to replenish the earth and give humanity one last chance. Humanity took this chance, and put the past behind them. Through a combination of magic and, after a million years, technology, the human race flourished in a dying world, perpetuating it's surface with the new magics that came up in this time of need. The elemental magic, the conjuring magic, the enchantment magic, and many, many more. There was crime, there always is, but the people thrived, and pushed forward. Nosgoth survived.

Nosgoth was once at peace, this much is true. But peaceful compared to how it is now…Just getting rid of the small, daily wars that dot all the cities and I'd call that peace. A lot of people say it was reemergence of the vampire race which caused these wars.

Unfortunately, this is, in fact, very true. Vampires have been around for a long time, but throughout the history of Nosgoth's reconstruction, they've stayed hidden in the shadows. People blame us for the rise of the wars, thinking we just up and appeared out of thin air one day and, BOOM, the whole world is in chaos.

The thing is I understand human nature too well to believe that, even if the vampires _had_ emerged from the shadows without…_him_, then the wars would have started solely because the vampire race up and decided to dominate the earth. It isn't about whose responsible for these wars, it's about the fear and the jealousies. Vampirism was, a long time ago, perceived as a plague, something evil, something that needed to be destroyed. And, perhaps, there was religion involved in it. Some priest up and decided their god said vampires were a blight upon the world and spread it around, but mostly I think it was because of fear. It's an age-old circle that goes round and round in spite of anyone's best efforts to stop it, or, at the very least, stem the flow. Humans fear what they don't understand, but they also fear anything more powerful than they, anything that they can't control, and what they fear, they seek to destroy. It isn't bad, necessarily, it's a survival instinct, point of fact. But humans must also justify their actions. A vampire is not a monster, a thing, something that cannot think for itself. A vampire is just as much of a person as a human is, they speak, feel, think, and are aware of themselves and their surroundings. And so, therefore, there must be some deeper reason why they must destroy the thing they fear. Oh, of course, it feeds upon their blood, their life, just as they feed upon the life of animals and plants, but animals and plants are _beneath_ them, humans are _not_ beneath the vampires, therefore the vampires must be evil.

Humans also seem to have this superiority complex that has been known to get them into trouble.

Nowadays, however, that is not the way the world turns. Nowadays the people know better. Vampirism is no longer seen as a plague, but as a method of survival.

My name is Rayne, and I live in a world where there is little order. Chaos and small daily wars are waged in a society that once built technologically advanced cities and cultures, but whose ruins became a testament to the rising power of an ancient vampire lord named _Kain_, who is, perhaps, the only being to this day who is older than I am. Legends say he was asleep for centuries, and when he awoke he built his new empire solely because the Elder vampires actively sought him out and swore their allegiance to him without question. They are all dead now, killed either in Kain's service or by Kain himself. And the fighting that had been going on beneath the eyes of the humans who flourished and blossomed with their technology and advanced civilizations suddenly reached a crescendo. Now technology, magic, and the power of those vampires who resist Kain's rule ignite the wars as Kain's empire fights for dominance while humans fight to survive and to reclaim their lost power as the dominant race. Though neither race, color, nor gender matters much anymore. Vampires are not the only enemy, there are, in fact, humans in Kain's service, and not everyone is fighting to defeat him either. Some are simply fighting to survive.

Because the world itself is dying again, and this time, I don't think the blood witches will be able to save it.

Kain emerged centuries ago, and back then I was a child, barely 5 years of age. All I remember of that day was my father coming for my mother and I, to hide us, to protect us. My mother, being human, did not last very long, in spite of my father's best efforts. She died shortly after it started, not because she was killed, nor because she was ill or starved, but because she knew she would only become a burden, and she would not survive long anyway. So, in order to lessen my father's load, in order to give me a better chance to survive, she sacrificed her lifeblood for me. Feeding me from her neck as she had from her breast when I was but a baby.

A vampire cannot mate with another vampire and bear children, no, the infertility still exists where it always has. But, a vampire _can_ mate with a human, and there is a 100 to 1 chance that the union will produce a child. However, while the gender of the child is dependant upon the father, the race is dependant upon the mother. Female vampires bear vampire children, while female humans bear human children. However, there is a chance, a very, very small chance, that when a vampire male takes a human as his mate, the union will produce a halfling, a Dhampir. Half human, half vampire, and 10 times stronger than both.

I was lucky enough to be born a Dhampir, if I wasn't, I wouldn't be alive right now. Of course, I still might not be alive if it hadn't been for the circumstances, which was mostly a long string of pure dumb luck.

Dhampirs are as valuable as they are rare, and a threat to the vampire hierarchy, which was based solely upon age, and age typically dictated power. With Dhampirs, that's not the case. The only reason I lived to be old enough that I could survive on my own was because of my father. He was one of the few vampire lords that did _not_ submit to Kain simply because he was the oldest geezer in the entire world. Unfortunately that made him rather well-known, something that, in this day and age, will get you killed, or worse. He had enough contacts, however, to keep me safe, hidden, and a complete secret until I had the power to take care of myself.

The woman who became my surrogate mother was a blood witch, and a powerful one. Of course, the most powerful blood witches keep to themselves and always make sure as few people as possible know about them. This one was in a shaky alliance with my father simply because he helped keep her a secret, but when it came time for her to return the favor, she was, at first, reluctant.

Until she realized what I was.

I was still very young when she made me her apprentice, and in the protected underground bunker that was her home, she taught me far more than my real mother ever could. She fed me on knowledge and the power it filled my veins with. She taught me to see the world through many different eyes, where I could look upon sights that neither humans nor vampires could have ever hoped to glimpse. She taught me how to call upon ancient powers that was only accessible to me through my human blood, and much, much more.

She also taught me about myself, explained to me what made me different, what made me special, powerful, unique.

As a Dhampir, I am not susceptible to the weaknesses that plague the vampire race. Even as a child neither sunlight nor water could harm me, and I do not need blood to sustain me. Normal food will do, though I can still feed and gain strength from blood. What's more, through my master's tutelage, I can gain much more from blood than strength and sustenance. I can gain the knowledge, skills, and power from the one I am feeding from, as well as some of their memories. After I learned to do this, my master willingly offered me ritualistic sacrifices of her blood every other day so that I would more swiftly gain the knowledge and powers she wished, rather desperately, to pass on to me. What else made me different was my ability to blend in with either the humans or the vampires quite perfectly by changing my shape. I could also transfigure my appearance at will through the magic I learned from my master. I could change the length of my hair, the color of my skin, of my eyes, my height, my weight, anything. But the change was never permanent. It would last for a period of two days and then I would have to change back for at least a minute before I could keep up the disguise.

And it was _always_ painful.

I am, perhaps, not as physically strong as I might have been had I been a full-blooded vampire. Nor am I as fast, nor are my psychic powers quite as powerful as they would have been considering my age. However, my dark gifts, my ability to use human magic, and my power to absorb power, knowledge, and skills through blood more than makes up for this. I have partaken of the blood of many hardened warriors, martial artists, marksmen, technicians, scientists, and much, much more over the years. I have even taken blood from other witches and sorcerers, though none of them have ever been nearly as powerful as my master had been. Her knowledge still courses through me, alive so long as I am alive. And for centuries I have hidden, I have survived, if only because my true nature has yet to be discovered.

I know that if I am discovered, an ancient, powerful, _female_ Dhampir, then I will be hunted down relentlessly and either killed, or forced to become the mate of Kain or someone else in his service in hopes that they can breed more Dhampirs from my semi-fertile womb. Personally, I think I'd prefer the former. But all the same, thoughts of making a stand, of boldly attempting to end Kain's reign, to end these wars, to stop the fighting, stop the madness that devours Nosgoth from within, they cross my mind on occasion, and my desire to live, to survive, fights them back.

I am powerful, I have to be to survive. I am a blood witch, I am a necromancer, I am a sorceress, I am a shapeshifter, I am a ninja, I am a huntress, a hacker, a markswoman, a swordmaster; I am a Dhampir, and I am afraid. I am afraid of the creature that seeks to rule Nosgoth without caring about the fact that he is destroying it beyond repair, without caring that he will be the king of a dead land. I am afraid of the ancient vampire, of the generation that existed before this one. I am afraid of him, and of what he might, of what he _would_, do to me if he had any clue or hint that I even existed.

But at the same time I know that, if I but had a drop of his blood, of that ancient blood, even half a drop, then there would be no more question in my mind. I _would_ be his superior, and I could kill him.

But what good would it do to a land that is already beyond hope?

I am a survivor, but sometimes I wonder, what is it that I am surviving _for_?

&

As a vampire, my skin is as pale as death. I am taller than most human males, with a very gracious figure and long blood-red hair. My ears are tipped, my fangs are like silver, and my claws are black. My hands are not quite so cloven as the eldest vampires, with only three strong fingers, I still have four, but that's fine with me. In this day and age not being able to use five digits can be quite the handicap. Cloven _feet_, on the other hand, make good sturdy boots quite unnecessary. I tend to wear black leather out in public, with tight pants and top which covers little more than a sports bra. In private, however, I tend to wear T-shirts and pajama pants.

The thing is you want to look tough in these cities, you want to look like you can take care of yourself, or you're just making yourself a target. And being female, I am enough of a target as it is in spite of the fact that women are just as capable of looking after themselves as men. It all has to do with appearance, women can be strong and powerful, but they're still going to _look_ like they can be overpowered quite easily, whether that's the case or not. But a _vampire_ woman, _that's_ a different story. Not even male vampires will mess with a female vampire, because they have the ability to make themselves look perfectly harmless and you truly have _no idea_ just how powerful they really are. What's more, there really isn't a difference in power between a vampire male and a vampire female, but it's easier to gauge the male's power than it is the female's.

And so in a city populated with just as many vampires as humans, one needs to look like they're neither on the menu, nor that they're going to be easily taken down. And thus, walking the streets as a vampire female is the best way to do this, though it isn't the best way to avoid attention.

I am blond today, and I look older than the 18-year-old form my body got itself stuck in. My eyes are blue, and I possess a serpent tattoo on my chest. I blend in almost perfectly with everyone else on the street that I'm walking, except that I am a vampire and I am female.

I live an itinerate lifestyle, never knowing whether or not I'll have a roof over my head or if I'll be able to find myself something (or someone) to eat. I do not carry my valuables on my person, for I have far too many to fit, even in a roomful of backpacks. No, I carry it all in subspace. Money, weapons, spellbooks, clothes, supplies, and extra tanks of blood just in case. And I don't stick around long enough in any one place for people to figure out that I can pull a gun from out of nowhere, literally.

I am a survivor, yes, but I am also a fighter, and sometimes, every once and a while, I will take a chance, and I'll do anything I can to help. As a blood witch, I am both feared and prized for my knowledge and powers. Not many people know too much about the blood witches other than that we are like crosses between healers and necromancers, because that's mostly what the lesser witches _are_, more or less. The more powerful of our kind stay out of sight, out of mind, hiding themselves beneath the fabric of reality itself. But I never could get use to that place, the Window World, and I deal with life the way everyone else does.

But even though I try to help, to heal, to aid with my knowledge and my powers, being a blood witch, and admitting to having even a small amount of that talent, paints a big red target on your forehead. _Not_ a good way to remain anonymous, and I've had some close calls. In fact I've had many close calls, but I typically have the sense to change every distinguishable feature before admitting to this power.

The thing is, blood witches are considered the most powerful mages in the world, and that's not a good thing. For the simple reason that it's completely _true_. Our magic is potent, its potential nigh-limitless, and it is ancient. We are much more than just female necromancers, much more than just healers. But no one needs to know that.

Do I believe what I'm doing helps in the long run? No, in fact I could very easily get discovered this way. But life without purpose is purely meaningless, and if I thought that killing Kain would make everything better, I'd make it my life's goal.

But as things stand, I really can't see how the death of that ancient vampire would make any difference in the end. He has already done the damage, and now all that's left is to survive.

I find myself in a pub where the idea of safety and shelter is enough to bring in more customers than it can really hold. But only those with money to afford a room can actually stay and have the benefit of the building's semi-protective services. I am able to pay for a room on the upper story because all those underground have been taken already, but it doesn't matter to me. Above ground it is easier to get out if there is a crisis, and on the upper story I could jump from the window of my room in order to escape.

"Are you hungry, Milady?" Asks the barkeep after I've paid for a room and he gives me the key. "The folks here would gladly give you blood to share your room." He explains.

I consider this. Nights are cold, and places like this cannot afford heating each individual room. Only those in the basement are warm simply because of their location. And, besides, while I can sustain myself with human food a little blood goes a long way, and most of the time it is simply a lot cheaper to drink blood than eat food, though only when I'm not in a city that is overly hostile towards vampires of any sort and must keep up a human disguise to avoid unwanted attention.

"I am a little." I admit, and he nods a gesture over to a table in the corner.

"That youth there spent his money on food rather than a room, so he's been well fed even if he looks thin. There are others but…" He shrugs, but I get the gist. That 'youth there' is likely the handsomest human in the pub, and the youngest male at that. The rest are big burly guys that, while they would have plenty more blood than I need to fill me up for another two weeks, I did _not_ particularly feel like sharing a bed with. Sex was hardly ever part of the deal, not with me anyway, but for some reason both males and females seem to expect it. The difference is that the females are less…insistent I suppose, but I am not bisexual, and sometimes sharing a bed with another woman, even if sex has nothing to do with it, feels awkward. I still would, but the thing is there are hardly any women in the pub that don't appear as though they can't afford a room, or as though they don't already have shelter. That's the only kind of woman who can come into a place like this though without turning themselves into a target.

He is small, and pale, but he does have some muscle, even if I can see hints of his ribs on his bear chest. He has long black hair, most of it covering his face. He's looking at a plate he seems to have cleaned with his tongue, either wishing there was more, or that he hadn't spent his last coin on food rather than shelter. Whatever the reason, his expression is dark and morose, though he is not timid. That's something I learn swiftly as I approach his table with my key in hand.

He looks up and I hold the key out so he can see it, "I have a room," I tell him, "And the nights are cold, would you mind sharing it with me?" I ask.

He glares boldly up at me, "I don't want your charity, Vampire." He snarls.

"It's not charity. Shelter and a bed in exchange for your blood, I'll even buy you an extra meal if you so wish." I tell him.

"Forget it." He snaps, turning back to his plate, "I barely have enough blood for me, much less you. Just leave me alone."

"I don't need much." I say, frowning. I admit, I'm surprised at this behavior. I'm not use to being refused like this, and not by a male either. I'm also surprised that he isn't, well, perhaps a little frightened of how I might react to his attitude. A decent number of other vampires would have slit his throat by now and taken every last drop he had for his insolence. Lucky for him I'm one of those who firmly believe in keeping up good relations with the human race for survival purposes if nothing else, and I don't steal blood unless I'm being threatened.

"I said no." He mutters, not looking up at me.

I try a new tactic. "_Pleeeeeeeeease_?" And he looks up to see me giving him a pair of puppy-dog eyes and the most adorable pout I can muster with my hands clasped in front of me.

This has completely thrown him for a loop, he has absolutely _no_ idea how to respond to this, and is in a state of shock. I decide to press my advantage and I began speaking in a swift pleading voice quiet enough that no one else need overhear what it is I'm saying.

"You see I'm really not that hungry so I don't need very much but I really _really_ hate the cold and I've got a room on the upper story so it's going to be _freezing_ tonight and blankets aren't _nearly_ as warm as a human body and you're probably the only guy in this room that won't be expecting me to have sex with them too so I'm honestly willing to pay for your next meal if you'll spend the night in my room with me. So, pretty please with a cherry on top?"

It's probably the fact that I did not feel embarrassed or humiliated in dropping the whole 'I'm in control like it or not' act that he's likely use to dealing with in all vampires which gets him to agree to stay with me. And perhaps part of him was desperate enough that he did want to take me up on my offer, but his pride wouldn't allow him to sink so low as that. Only when I ask him as though he'd be doing _me_ a favor rather than the other way around does he feel better about the situation.

"O-okay…" He says awkwardly, still a little shocked by my change of personality.

"Thank you _soooo_ much." I whisper. I then wink at him and return to my more debonair self as I straighten back up. I then gesture imperiously for him to follow, and I see him blink, and then attempt to hide a smile. Oh yes, now he understands.

After all, presentation is everything.

&

Despite popular belief, not all vampires are driven by both blood and sex…just most of them. Heheh, no, perhaps that's an unfair generalization.

Personally, I've never been able to have casual sex with anyone. Because of my training as a blood witch, the act is far deeper and far more personal to me than to most people. During sex blood and fluids are transferred between bodies, but more than that, a piece of yourself enters that other person, making them a part of you, and you a part of them. It is an act that joins two into one, and while at its very basic its purpose is procreation, it is that joining, that sharing, that combination which makes it truly pleasurable. I do not like sharing myself with someone whose name I don't know and whose identity I don't care about. But there are things that a body needs, whether it be human or vampire, and a connection with another being is one of them. We are not solitary races, we thrive on communion, on being a multitude.

Sometimes I dream of falling in love, and I have on a few occasions. But I've learned that love can be too much of a handicap, even if it's worth the effort, worth the work. Just to have someone there, always, no matter what. Someone you can talk to, to share your dreams with, your wants, your fears, your thoughts and feelings. My father had my mother, and I know that he truly did love her, mostly because of how devastated he was when she sacrificed herself for me, even though he understood why she'd done it. It still hurt him, and, in a way, perhaps death was a release when Kain finally found him. I often imagine that they've found each other in the afterlife and are there, waiting for me, but hoping that they'll be waiting a long time still. Sometimes I've considered trying to call their spirits back, but I don't dare. There's too much of a chance that they'll loose their way, that they won't be able to return to whatever afterlife they now exist in and will be devoured by the scavengers of the spectral realm.

I hope that one day I might be able to find that certain someone, but that hope is little more than a wish, a dream, and I have little confidence that it will ever become reality.

I enter the room with the youth. It's not in good shape, it smells and there is dust. But it's dry, it's a room, and it has a bed, which is more than I've had in the past. At the very least, there's a small bathroom, so the building has a plumbing system and offers free showers, though I don't need to bathe. Vampires have their own ways of keeping clean. Their skin is able to produce a liquid that destroys bacteria and makes getting rid of dirt and grim a simple matter of taking a dry cloth and wiping it all away. But as a Dhampir, water still feels nice when I can afford to use it without blowing my cover. As it is, I enter the bathroom only to change my clothes, pulling the curtain door over it for a little privacy.

"So what's your name?" I ask as I change. My voice is neither the deep calm of my dangerous woman façade, nor is it the chipper pouty one I'd used to get him in here earlier. It's open, it's comfortable, and genuine.

"Coal." He answers, and I smile, hearing that his voice has, as well, become more relaxed. "What's yours? Or would you prefer me to call you Milady?"

"No thanks. It's Rayne." I answer, slipping into a comfortable set of sweat pants and sweater. Practice has made me able to slip into these clothes without ripping them up with my cloven feet or clawed hands, a feat that takes quite a lot of skill, and yet doesn't always work. I swear loudly when I realize I've nicked a hole in one of my sleeves.

"What's wrong?" Coal asks.

"My d(beep) claws!!" I answer, "I tore a f(beep)ing hole in my favorite d(beep) sweater!! This is why vampires wear black leather, it doesn't get ripped up so f(beep)ing easily!" I exclaim.

"Did you get your claws recently?" He asks, and in his voice I can tell he's trying hard not to laugh.

"NO! That's why I'm so mad!!" I answer, coming out of the bathroom in a huff. "Stupid things." I say, glaring at my claws, "You'd _think_ I'd be use to them by now but _ooooh noooo_! They still have to go ripping stuff up!"

"Where's the tear?" He asks curiously, and I show him my sleeve. He can no longer control himself. He starts to laugh. I know why, the hole is fairly small and I'm making such a big deal about it.

"It's my favorite sweater though!" I exclaim defensively.

"W-w-why not just wear b-black leather?" He gasps, making a valiant attempt to control himself.

"It's not as comfy…" I answer, and this just makes him laugh even harder.

Coal makes use of the shower, changing into the warm clothes he had in his backpack. He dries himself off fairly well before coming out, unfortunately his hair is still wet and he continues to desperately attempt to towel the water out while I sit on the bed, reading a day-old newspaper in a comfortable position. I look up when he comes out, his hair still a little damp. "Sorry," He says, "I guess we'll have to wait until it dries on its own."

"To be honest I'm not as sensitive to water as some vampires." I admit, "I'm not about to go jump in a lake, but I can stand a light shower of rain for a while." I lie.

"Oh…"

"But I can still wait until your hair's dry." I say, going back to my paper and he snickers.

"Um…" He says, "Are those…_bunny slippers_?" He asks, his eyes on my feet, which I stick out so he can have a better view of their pink fluffiness.

"You like them? I had them enchanted so my feet won't rip them up. Unfortunately that kind of magic work costs a bundle and I can't afford to get all my clothes done that way." I tell him. Truth is _I_ enchanted them, but as I'm currently a vampire I can't let him know that. "So beware snuggly bunny feet during the night." I tell him, and he grins, knowing full well I put them on so my feet wouldn't turn his to ribbons accidentally, and he appreciates it.

"You're…nothing like all the other vampires I've met." He admits, sitting down at the edge of the bed because there's nowhere else for him to sit.

"I like to think of myself as _special_." I said, pronouncing 'special' with a lisp to be funny. "But the truth is I don't want to intimidate you, and so I don't feel the need to keep my barriers up. I want you to be comfortable around me, and I want to be comfortable around you. I could, of course, crush your skull with my bear hands. _But_, do I _want_ to? Heeeeeeeell no! It takes too much work to be up-tight all the time, and if I can get away with being lazy I _will_." I tell him.

"It's more than that. You're not acting like you're my superior." He said, and he was serious now, looking me in the eye as though looking for something, though I wasn't sure what.

"Because that's not how I am, that's not how I think. Vampires were once humans after all, and I really don't believe the whole 'might makes right' mentality. But the fact is that, to survive, I have to act like I do to the outside world so that I don't present myself as a target." I answer simply. I then smirk and lean forward, "Just don't go repeating this to anyone, mmkay? People might get the impression that I'm working with the rebellion." I say in a murmur, and Coal smiles, though a bit awkwardly.

"Are you?" He asks, and I just give him a big smile and bat my eyes.

"No, but that doesn't mean I can't still sympathize." I answer. He just nods and turns to look down at his feet.

"I…" He swallows nervously, "I think my hair's dry…" He murmurs.

I look at him as he turns to me expectantly, and I see something in his eyes that I don't like. Dread, like he knows what's coming, but he's still willing to face it. I frown, and I set aside my newspaper. "Coal…have you been bitten before?" I ask him. He turns away from me, and he nods. "It was painful, wasn't it?" I ask him, and he shudders with the memory, nodding slowly. I sigh heavily and I move closer to him. I touch his arm gently. "Coal, not all vampire bites are painful. Mine aren't, I swear it." I tell him.

He looks at me with wide, pleading eyes, as though begging for me not to lie to him, "Your bites?" He murmurs.

"Most vampires can control whether our bites are painful or pleasurable." I give him a sheepish grin, "I'm only able to control _how_ pleasurable, I don't know that I could make it hurt even if I wanted to. And I _don't_ want to. Honest." I say, and I give him a peck on the cheek, "So relax, I swear I'll make sure you enjoy it. It'll be soothing, like having a full-body massage and then you'll just be pleasantly drowsy." I tell him.

Coal turns, and the next thing I know his lips are on mine.

In a world that is dying, where anything that gives you happiness can be stripped away from you in a second, where you must look for every single sliver of hope and hold onto it or else succumb to the madness around you, you take what you can to survive, you take what you need, and give whatever you can afford just so you might be able to look at another day where you're not completely alone.

I'm so tired of being alone. But even though I know I can't keep Coal, I can't love him, can't afford to love him and believe we might have a chance to make some kind of life together, I kiss him back, and I find myself longing for whatever comfort his arms can give me, longing to give whatever comfort my claws can give. He pushes me back, though tentatively, and I let him, drawing him on top of me where he deepens the kiss.

I roll on top of him, still kissing him feverishly, but I break from his lips and trail my own down his chin, kissing his throat, around to just beneath his ear, and then trailing downward in order to choose a place to bite. His breathing is heavy, and his grip on me is tight. I lick the place I intend to bite so he won't be surprised, and then I gently sink my fangs into his flesh. He gasps, then sighs and I feel him relax contentedly as I drink slowly with the intention of removing the soreness of his body, soothing his muscles, calling them to relax.

When I've had my fill and I pull my fangs from his neck he lets out a loud small grunt, breathing heavily and drowsily while I lick away the trails of blood from his neck.

"Wow…" He breathes, and I move up so I can smile down at him and kiss him.

"Get some sleep, I imagine you're dead tired." I tell him, and he nods blearily. I give him credit, though, he's able to keep his eyes open as I get up and lock the door, turn off the light, and get a few extra blankets to keep us warm. I snuggle up next to him, and he drapes an arm around me as though he's going to protect me and is out like a light. I close my eyes, allowing myself the comfort of another person's embrace, and I fall asleep enveloped in his scent.

My last thought was that, perhaps, just maybe, we could make it work somehow.

I am such a fool.

&  
Ending notes and stuff!!  
&

Rhea: Hi all!! Your beloved dragon girl has returned!! As this is my first Soul Reaver fanfic I would ask that you all be kind and supportive and love me, but I know that's asking a lot so I'll avoid it. Anyway! If you can't already guess the beginning here is set in a futuristic Nosgoth (and yes, Nosgoth is the name of the PLANET in this story, because I FEEL like it dang you!), but don't worry! Time travel is imminent, as are auspicious plot twists, BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Rayne: Yeah, this beginning sucked, and I hate you're cliffhanger. "I am such a fool." WHAT THE HECK IS _THAT_ SUPPOSE TO MEAN!?

Rhea: Not telling!

Rayne: I'll know sooner or later. Why not tell me now?

Rhea: Because then you'll tell the audience!!

Rayne: WHAT AUDIENCE!? NO ONE IS GOING TO READ THIS!! THIS IS ONLY THE FIRST CHAPTER AND FIRST CHAPTERS ALWAYS _SUCK_!! You'll be lucky if anyone so much as glances at this story! Maybe after two or three chapters so people know you're not going to cough up a bit and forget the rest of it.

Rhea: Why do you have to be so negative!?

Rayne: I could be positive but it's more fun to be negative most of the time.

Kioko (my muse): Here here!

Rhea: Anyway, for those of you who _are_ reading for some odd reason, R&R!

Rayne: But no one _is_ reading.

Rhea: GIVE IT SOME TIME DANGIT!! DON'T RUIN MY HAPPY!!

Rayne: You're ugly and no one will ever love you.

Rhea: ;.;…_sniff_.

Kioko: (Sighs heavily) Gee, thanks a lot, Rayne, you just made the authoress cry.

Rhea: WAAAAAAAAAAA!!

Rayne: Oh dear god, just kill me now.


	2. Song of the Dead

A/N: Not sure what to put as a header, or even to have one at all. No one reads the header…why are you reading the header you weirdo?

&

Coal is dead when I wake up. The passing of his spirit from his body is what opens my eyes in the first place, and I feel my blood run cold as I realize what has happened.

"No…" I whisper, and I feel tears that have not been shed in a long time streak down my face. "Gods…no, please, don't do this to me." I whisper, still praying denial, but it's no use, and I weep, even as I open one of my inner eyes to see Coal's specter staring at me with streaks of black flowing down his eye sockets. "Why?" I choke, "Why didn't you say something?" I whispered to his specter.

I would have died anyway, there was nothing you could have done. I'm sorry, but I, I want you to know that, that my last moments in this world were wonderful thanks to you. He answers, not understanding that I shouldn't be able to hear him, not realizing that the ability I have, to see, to hear him, is not one a vampire can have. But then, I suppose to him, it really doesn't matter. I lived for you for a while but…maybe it's better this way. I would have fallen in love with you, and even if you had taken pity on me…I would have only been a hindrance. You know that's true, don't deny it. He tells me.

I don't understand how he died, nor do I understand why. All I know is that he is dead, and the sweet dream I had of finally breaking this loneliness, if only for a while, has been smashed into pieces. I sit there with his cold body in my arms, sobbing hard, and, for the first time, wondering if I could finally find a release for all this pointless suffering in the afterlife.

I am a survivor, I am a fighter, but I am so tired of being alone.

&

I'm not sure how long it's been since I left with Coal's body in subspace, how many days have passed since I sent Coal's spirit on to the afterlife, afraid that if he lingered overlong his soul would be devoured by a wraith or a slugha. As a blood witch, a freshly preserved human body is valuable, but I didn't know if I would have it in me to harvest it for either bone or meat. I have taken the rest of his blood and contained it separately while the rest of his body stays in its frozen state, but so far that's all I've done.

I've been in a daze for a while, wandering outside the city, entering dead forests with broken street lamps that once made this place a park. Now only weeds and moss grow, and the dead trees are chopped down for firewood by desperate scavengers. I am alone, I would know if there were anyone else here, I would smell them, or sense them, and even in a daze I'm cautious enough to pay that much attention. I didn't survive for centuries to be stupid now, even after waking up to find my possible lover dying even as I opened my eyes.

I have been sobbing for a long time.

I have wondered near an encampment, there are a few people here, all of them human, but when they see me, they don't flee. I realize why when I find most of them are either sick, old, or little more than walking shells. They are starving, and cold, huddling together for warmth and comfort as they wait for death to take them. And besides, I have since returned to my natural human shape, I'm one of them now.

I can't help them, not really, but I can still try. At least it will give me something to think about besides Coal.

I use archaic human healing methods to help set bones and clean wounds, and blood witch methods to heal the sick by cutting a small laceration and calling the illness to leave the body through the wound, then destroying the infected blood in the fire. I throw some herbs into the flames to help soothe soar throats and a drug or two to numb the pains. An old woman asks me to help her into the next life and I do so by singing her spirit out of her body and sending it swiftly into the afterlife. I then take the blood from her body and use its leftover vitality to help others.

I work with magic and herbal medicines until the sun comes up, and am rewarded with an offering of hot, thick soup and what little coin the encampment can give me. I take the soup and refuse the coin. I sleep in the leader's tent a few hours, then I get back up and work some more.

I do not truly see the effects of my healing until I sit down, wary to the bone, and I look around myself to find the sick and ill strong and healthy, walking around, working, digging, making bullets for their pistols and shooting them at the few birds that fly above us. The encampment has come back to life, and I find myself simply sitting there, staring, wondering if I could possibly have had a hand in this, or if it were an illusion.

And all around me people are smiling at me, thanking me, coming over to me and clasping my hands for doing things that I couldn't even remember half of.

My last contribution before I leave is a pistol with bullets full of a potion that is deadly to both vampires and humans. I give it to the leader, explain what it is, and he begs me to stay. But I shake my head, "This is no place for a blood witch. I would bring you more trouble than I'm worth if I were discovered here." And with that, I leave.

But not without one last look upon the small encampment I somehow managed to bring life back into.

Perhaps, there is some hope after all.

&

Small wars within a single city is not an unusual occurrence in this age, and so at first I simply watch from the top of a building which towers over the erupting chaos, using a crystal visor to watch the action by way of scrying rather than through the limited use of binoculars. Bodies are falling, both human and vampire, tanks are shooting, magic is flying as are bullets and blades. But it is the sudden appearance of a single figure which makes this war no more typical than a solar eclipse.

Kain.

Dear gods, he's even uglier than I remember.

The rebellion, rather than become frightened at his arrival, instead double their efforts and they start throwing everything they have at Kain, who just stands there and laughs as the missiles and spells hit an invisible barrier, completely useless against whatever dark gifts he has at his beck and call. Through my crystal visor I can see the workings of the shield, and I can't help but grudgingly admire how it's simplicity is what makes it so powerful. But I can see its weakness, and I wonder…

I would never have a better chance than this. I could do it, I had the means, I could kill Kain while his back is turned, pierce his barrier and send one of my potion-filled bullets at him to weaken him enough to take his blood.

But do I dare? Would the chaos last long enough now that he had arrived with lieutenants that he did not need and a sword that was said to have shielded Kain against a nuclear missile? I don't know, but if ever was the time to act, to seek out vengeance against this monster for destroying the world the humans tried so hard to build up and cultivate, that time is now.

I fly from rooftop to rooftop, keeping in the shadows as I move closer to the battlefield. When I am near enough, I open my inner eye to the death below, and I see the lingering souls of the killed still hovering near their bodies. I sing a song that goes unheard by the living, but which the dead hear with a clarity that cannot be matched. I sing them an offer of vengeance, of a few more moments to fight, and then of a direct path to the afterlife.

None refuse, and soon all those soldiers who had just died are ripping their flesh from new bodies, bodies of living bone, of pulsing muscles, of powerful figures with blades of bone as sharp and strong as steel. Their faces are twisted with hate and a desire for vengeance, ugly and horrific, but beautiful in their own way.

The souls of fallen vampires cry for the same second chance, and I comply with a different song, for them I can rise in a different way, a far more powerful and deadly method that only they could bear. Their bodies rise, their flesh melts inward as their bowls are used for a new purpose. They are figures of bone but with muscles in their arms and legs and stretched skin whose color is a deathly gray-blue. As much of them as can be taken is used to give their new bodies power, and their souls scream their pleasure for their new bodies and they join the new assult.

Screams of 'necromancer' and 'blood witch' have gone up. They are cries of surprised victory for the rebellion, and of dismay for Kain's army. And now the rebellion is more than a pest to be squashed, it is a force to be reckoned with, a thorn that has brought with it the entire rosebush.

But the effort has left me weak, very weak, and my body desires fresh blood.

I slip into an alleyway where I had spied an enemy soldier attempting to leave the battle in order to save his own life. I throw a knife into his retreating back, and from that laceration I gain access to his lifeblood. I move like lightening just behind him so that I can take out the dagger and call the blood out of his body. I yank it directly from his heart, he does not even have time to scream as his blood draws itself from his body and sinks directly into my flesh. I take it all, and its vitality sings in me like a war song.

As the power flows through me, I can feel my eyes changing and I allow it. The whites become black, the irises a piercing violet, and the pupils a glowing red. The eyes of a fully-fledged blood witch, the only thing that can truly mark me as such, but which none but other full blood witches can identify.

I am ready. I will kill Kain. His blood is mine.

&

I am being searched for even as the battle rages through the better part of the day and while many of my dark children have fallen, their bodies utterly destroyed so that their souls can no longer reside within, more are rising to take their place. As for the enemy soldiers who have died, I sing a song of distortion. I warp their thoughts mercilessly, make them believe they are rebels killed by Kain's army, and they rise to fight alongside their enemies.

Because of this, I am the biggest threat, but because of the sheer amount of bodies I am raising and the power of their forms, I am believed to be more than one, I am believed to be at least three blood witches and two necromancers.

Kain is falling back, and I follow him in the shadows, behind the action, above it on the rooftops. It cannot be more perfect when one of his own lieutenants dies by a sniper using bullets of a potion similar to my own. I get to work immediately, sweetly coaxing the soul of the dead vampire into distortion, twisting it, bending it, making it believe what I want it to believe. That it was Kain who killed him because he was jealous, that Kain was the one who shot the bullet, that he desired it to happen, because the vampire was becoming too powerful, and Kain did not want to be challenged by anyone or anything.

It was surprisingly easy to do this, and soon enough the soul has returned to a body, the most powerful kind of animated corpse that can be risen by the hand of a blood witch.

But as soon as he rises and turns his attention upon Kain, the ancient vampire laughs and runs him through with his sword. The blade destroys the binding, the body becomes ash, and the soul goes directly to the afterlife. Kain is now searching for me, his eyes roving around for my presence, but I do not need to be in view of him to see him with my crystal visor. Yet I can still hear him taunting me, "Come out come out, wherever you are!" He calls, laughing.

And then, my blood freezes as his next words leave his lips.

"No need to be shy, Rayne, I know it's you. Only you would have this kind of power. Come out and take credit for your handiwork, but killing me now will make no difference in the long run. Nosgoth was doomed from the beginning, as you very well know." He says.

I run, I no longer care what happens. My creations will fight until either they have been decimated completely or their purpose is fulfilled, but I will not be able to raise any more because in a few short minutes, I will not even be in this city any longer.

&

He knows my name.

So long, for so long, for so many centuries, I have done everything in my power to stay beneath Kain's notice, even as I defied him when I could. Centuries of believing I was safe, that he did not know about me, did not know I existed, that I ever would exist.

And he knows my name.

I am confused, I can't figure out how on earth he would know me, how he could possibly know me just from watching as I raise the dead back to life in bodies of power, not even seeing me do it, not even hearing my songs. How could he realize it was but one person doing all of that, I have never raised so many corpses at once before, never, how can he just look at this and say my name?! It is impossible! Utterly impossible!! I would know if I were being followed, spied on, watched in any way, I would know, even if it were through scrying I'd be able to sense it, to look up with my inner eye and see the other side of the crystal or glass from which I was being looked down upon. I would know, I would.

But he knows my name.

How often do I give my real name? How often do I even give a name? Coal was the first in a long, long time. And Coal could not possibly have been a spy. And even if he were, he had no idea, even after death, what I was, and what I could do.

How can Kain know my name?

My eyes have returned to normal in my fear, and I find myself running so swiftly as to be little more than a blur through a dead forest, now many miles from the city.

I have found an abandoned farm house, mostly destroyed, but with a basement that I enter for whatever semblance of safety I can find. I even hide in a corner, covering myself in an old tarp and some furniture items to make a tent that looks like little more than a pile of rubbish covered so it doesn't have to be seen. I curl up and sleep in an uncomfortable position and I do so fitfully, waking at every slight sound, every hint of life, even if it's just a mouse or a raccoon. I coax them to me and I take the vitality from their blood to strengthen me, though it only feeds the blood witch, not the vampire which must have human blood or none at all.

After resting, I feel a bit better, a bit more calm, a bit less terrified, but no less worried and wary.

I emerge from my small shelter, dirty, but able to clean myself by having my body secrete the cleansing liquid vampires use for hygiene. I will have to travel many miles, perhaps leave the continent itself. But I have the feeling that, no matter where I go, no matter what I do, the life I've lived for so long has drawn to a close. I am going to be hunted down as I feared I would for so many centuries, and I would either die at the tip of Kain's blade, or forced to kneel in his service, whatever that might be.

One thing was certain, I would die before I shared a bed with that monster.

&

I have been running for a long time, avoiding cities, avoiding settlements, just running, only stopping to rest for minutes at a time before I continue at a speed to match that of a sports car. I do not use computers when I'm on the move if I can help it. Computers and other kinds of electronic devices can be traced too easily, and while it might be simpler to hook up to the internet to figure out where I was and where I was headed, I preferred using my crystal lenses and scrying for this information. I'm heading for the ocean, after that, I don't know. Perhaps I'll catch a ride on a ship, or an airplane, or perhaps I'll just swim.

I finally stop in a cave that had previously been inhabited by a wild bear. I kill him and cook his meat over the fire while I harvest his hide to make a thick blanket to keep me warm during the night while I sleep and don't have movement to fight the cold. What meat I don't cook I preserve and place in subspace. I jar the rest of it, making sure not to waste anything that I might be able to use later, and I sit down to grind his bones into a fine powder, wrapped in his furs and eating the tough meat. It isn't something I have to do, but it helps keep my hands busy while I wait for my fatigue to catch up to me and I have to sleep.

Before I do, however, I use earth magic to close the mouth of the cave to make it small enough to be hidden behind the shrubs of the mountain, but large enough to slip out in case of an emergency, and then I curl up next to softly burning embers and allow sleep to take me.

I don't know how long I sleep, perhaps for days, but when I awake, I am no longer alone in my cave.

Kain is here.

"You always did hate the cold, didn't you?"

&  
Ending notes and stuff!  
&

Rayne: O.O WHAT THE CRAP YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE IT THERE!! !! !!

Rhea: Yeah, well, I did, BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Kioko: One thing you're going to learn real quick about Rhea is that she likes cliffhangers.

Rayne: OBVIOUSLY!! (Glares)

Kain: I think it was a rather suspenseful edge. Why not use base manipulation in order to force the readers to return?

Rayne: WHAT READERS!? WE DON'T HAVE ANY—

Rhea: (Holds up reviews)

Rayne: -.-, okay, you got two reviews from the last chapter, that's it!

Rhea: Actually, for an LoK fanfic, two is pretty good, especially for the first chapter.

Rayne: (Reading them) Why is this person virtually poking me?

Kain: I can do it physically if you like.

Rayne: No you can't, we're fictional characters, everything we do is virtual and text-based. At least people know what you really look like. All they can do is imagine me. (Rounds on Rhea) I demand to be drawn and posted on DeviantArt!!

Rhea: But I still haven't installed Photoshop yet…

Rayne: Don't care! (Tosses reviews into the fire)

Rhea: !.! NO!! MY PRECIOUS!! (Dives in after them)

Rayne: !.! WHAT IS SHE, STUPID!?

Kioko: She's a dragon.

Rayne: Oh, right, immunity to fire…

Rhea: (Sniff) My reviews!! NOOOOOOOO!! WAAAAAAAAAA!!

Kioko: And we end this with a crying authoress, again. WE STILL HAVE COPIES ONLINE YOU MORON!! (Sigh) R&R, or don't, I don't really care.


	3. Past and Future

A/N: WARNING!! SLIGHT KAIN/OC AHEAD!! PLEASE IGNORE DISTURBING IMAGES AND GO ON WITH YOUR LIFE!!

On another note, RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART RAYNE HAS FANART!!

OBSERVE THE SITE!! THANK YOU DRAGON260 I WUV YOU IN A PLUTONIC AND ABSOLUTLY NON-ROMANTIC WAY!! CHECK IT!!

(Unfortunately it seems as though the site is NOT going to allow me to post links to DeviantArt, or anywhere else, here, so you'll have to check out the link on Dragon260's page and look for Rayne. Check it out while I fume at whoever abused the hyper-link privileges enough to get them sucked from us like nearly all the extra characters on the number line of the keyboard)

&

"You are a very difficult person to follow, you know that?" he says, smirking down at me from the wall of the cave that he is leaning upon, not two yards from where I lay, frozen. I can't even muster enough of my mind to be afraid, all I can think of is that he can't, he just _can't_ be here.

How had he followed me? How did he find me?

"I admit, I am a bit confused though. After all this time you finally decide to get my attention, and then you run. I should hate you for being alive and not once giving me any clue that you were still around. And here I was thinking you were dead. Have you been asleep all this time as well? Or perhaps you just—" But I have snapped out of my stupor. I fly from my nest of bear's fur, flipping up into the air with my hands and unloading three potion-filled bullets into Kain even before my feet are back on solid ground.

The shocked expression on his face almost makes this entire situation worth it.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR!?" He demands, clutching his wounds and shouting as much in rage as in pain.

_He can__**not**__ be serious._ I think moving swiftly to the entrance of the cave, two guns still trained on Kain, but he pulls up his barrier with a hiss, even as the pain of his wounds forces him almost to his knees. The potion doesn't seem to be working on him the same way it does on other vampires, but at the very least it hurts a _lot_. He's glaring at me with both anger and indignation, but he eyes my guns with a wary confusion.

"Can you at least _tell_ me what I did to make you so mad?" He drawls irritably.

"Are you on crack or something!?" I demand, my voice higher than I would have liked it to be as I stare at him, feeling my eyes change to their black violet-red state and my power pulsing in my veins, readying itself for the strike. My hands, trained as they are, do not shake, but on the inside I am a nervous wreck. I bottle my fear, however, stowing it away for later. Now, however, now I cannot show that fear, and I cannot allow it to interfere with my survival.

"Raziel chose his fate, Rayne." Kain snarls, bearing his teeth as he struggles back up into a standing position. "Are you going to blame me for what happened to him? Raziel was the only one who could choose his own fate, the only one who had free will, and he chose to become the Reaver." He tells me.

"I think you have me confused with someone else." I murmur, as this is the only explanation that I can think of for why he'd be acting this way, and expecting any of what he just said to make the slightest bit of sense or hold the smallest bit of relevance to the situation whatsoever.

"Oh _please_! Give me a little more credit! Just how many Dhampir blood witches can this world possibly _hold_, hmm?" He asks.

I don't think, I can't, all I can do, is run, slip out of the crevice I had made and just _go_ at top speed. I don't understand what's going on, I don't understand how he could _possibly_ know that about me, how there's any way he could just up and _know_ me like that. There's no explanation, unless I was…reincarnated.

But that's impossible! Reincarnated souls do _not_ inhabit the same body, possess the same power, even the same _name_ as their past selves!! Everything is erased and they begin a new life with a clean slate. The only thing similar to their past self is the soul, everything else is a pure coincidence. And it simply doesn't seem likely, or even _possible_, that Kain knew a Dhampir blood witch in his own time, especially since the ancient vampires couldn't reproduce like that, even with human mates. And even if you _do_ go and take human concubines, a Dhampir child is a 1 in a million chance from the 1 in a hundred chance that the female human will even get _pregnant_ in the first place. There is _no way_ it could _possibly_ be a coincidence, I am almost a walking impossibility as it is, you somehow manage to get a Dhampir out of an ancient vampire's dalliances with a human female and she looks _exactly like me_ with _my name_ and _my power_? No, this isn't right. _Something_ is going on here, and while I still want to believe that it's simply because ancient vampires have no immunity to alcohol and Kain hit the pubs hard and fast while he was chasing me, that still doesn't explain how he could possibly know my name, know my power, know what I am, and start talking to me as if we had known one another since the ancient times, when I hadn't even been _born_ yet!

It didn't make _any sense_! But was I going to turn around and _ask_ him to kindly explain to me what the heck he's talking about? _Heeeeeeeeell_ no! I am going to get as far away as Dhampiricly possible, and _then_ some!

But I know, I can feel him, I can tell quite clearly that he is _right behind_ me.

At the very least, I know that he's not just toying with me. He is truly making an attempt to catch me, and so far I am able to keep ahead of him, but I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.

I am afraid, my terror is too much that I can no longer keep it bottled. All my life I have both feared and hated Kain, whatever this new development was, it confused and terrified me almost solely because _he_ was involved. Had it been anyone else, had it been but one of his lieutenants, I would have been able to deal with it. But Kain? Kain was the oldest vampire in all Nosgoth, and, if the small effect those three bullets of mine had done was any indication, he was the most powerful as well. Especially with a sword that could cut down my most powerful undead warrior as if it were made of paper and toothpicks.

I am no match for Kain as a vampire, and my blood magic is no use against that sword. Yes, I could penetrate his barrier, but that would take more time and concentration than I can afford without some kind of distraction. And right now, the best distraction I can hope for is an agitated squirrel with rabies and an overbite.

The chase ends, as it was doomed to, when Kain overtakes me, materializing from a cloud of darkness in front of me, and grabs me even as I turn to avoid him. He snatches me from my swift run, and pins me with my back to his chest, his arms trapping mine against my waist.

Hot tears of fear and despair fall down my cheeks as he lowers his head and whispers in my ear, "Now, Rayne, did you really think I'd just let you _go_?" he breathes. "Oh no, my dear, afraid I can't trust you not to disappear for another million years like you did. I really should hate you for making me think you were dead all this time. But finding you once again, seeing you alive and not a day older than I remember…you can't possibly imagine how much I've missed you." He murmurs, and I feel him burry his face in my blood-red hair, nuzzling the crook of my neck while the nature of his grip changes from the hold of a captor to the embrace of a lover. "But I can forgive you for pretending to be dead all this time, and I can forgive the games you insist on playing. Because now, none of that matters. Now, you're mine."

He spins me around and before I can even blink his lips have taken mine prisoner, and he is crushing my body against his, either oblivious to the tears upon my cheek, or apathetic, it's hard to tell, nor do I particularly care either way. But now I am almost just as confused as I am frightened, perhaps more.

His kiss is passionate, hungry, even desperate. He moans as he forces his tongue into my mouth, and through my fear and confusion, I am able to see a way out of this nightmare.

I sink a fang into his tongue, and Kain shudders with an immediate response, growling in approval as I slowly drink from a single fang, taking his blood and focusing upon the power I know it can give me.

At first I think he is wise to me when he pulls his tongue from my mouth and releases my lips, but then he grasps my head and brings my lips to his neck. Unable to believe my good fortune, I immediately sink my teeth into his flesh and I drink deeply, concentrating on keeping him distracted through the pleasure of my bite, and sucking as much power from his blood as I can. He moans and mutters incoherently while I drink, clutching me to him with surprisingly gentle caresses in spite of the size of his claws.

But something is wrong, something is very, very wrong.

Kain's blood flows into my body, I can feel myself gaining his power, his strength, his dark gifts, perhaps making me twice, or even five times what I was before. But I have made a fatal error in judgment. I didn't anticipate just how much power was in his blood, I took too much, and I took it too swiftly. My body cannot adapt quickly enough, and I feel the beginnings of vertigo as I draw back my fangs and Kain hisses with a virtual release of ecstasy.

I fade in an out of consciousness, knowledge of what is happening coming in short flashes.

I am on the ground, Kain's lips upon mine, his breathing heavy, his flesh is hot.

His lips are trailing down my neck, he buries his face in my breasts, sighing.

His claws pull my shirt up to expose my flat stomach which he kisses.

He is above me, speaking to me, but I can't understand his words. He is looking at me.

He's there, he's shaking me, calling out in a frightened voice. But I'm unable to respond, I can only stare at him blearily, and fight to regain my consciousness.

He holds me in his arms, shaking me, trying to bring me back.

It's no use, I loose all consciousness, and I pray to whatever god willing to listen to me that when I wake back up this nightmare will be over.

Let me die here and now, if only so I don't have to feel his touch again.

&

I have been ill like this before, a few times, and all of them I have nearly died, though mostly that's because of how week a state I am in during them. I've been lucky so far, most of those times I was either able to wait it out alone, or someone nearby took pity on me and cared for me, making the illness more bearable.

Blood magic is different from most other magics because it is almost like a conscious thing that lives inside of the witch, rather than simple knowledge of how it works. Blood witches are sometimes feared more than vampires for this thing, for it takes more than simple knowledge to be a blood witch, it takes a certain ability, and that certain something must be awakened inside oneself. My blood magic was awakened through desperation as well as my master's blood sacrifices, but such power does not come without a price, even for me.

This illness comes when my blood magic attempts to turn upon my own body to feed its hunger. Ironically enough this doesn't happen when I 'starve' it, but when I feed it far too much at once. It's like when one's body suddenly gets use to having a lot of food at once, and then it has little and, even though it doesn't _need_ any more food, it growls and throws fits, trying to get you to eat more even though it doesn't need it.

This typically happens when I drink too swiftly from blood that is too powerful for me to handle, and my blood magic desires more even though more might just kill me.

I'm in a lot of pain, but I don't really believe I'm going to survive this time. For a while, I'm not entirely sure why I feel so hopeless about this situation, nor do I realize why it is that I'm hoping I don't survive as well, as though surviving this would be worse. But then I slowly regain sense of my surroundings.

I am back in the cave and wrapped heavily in the bear's fur, a fire is blazing hot, but I am still shivering. Kain is here, sitting against the wall of the cave with his sword at his side. His arms and legs are crossed, his head is bowed and his eyes are closed. He appears to be sleeping, and I wonder, fleetingly, if he'd survive a few bullets to the head, but in this condition, I would barely be able to hold the gun steady much less aim. I am hardly a threat to him like this, I couldn't defend myself from that agitated squirrel with rabies and an overbite much less Kain.

The pain is sharp in my chest, and I find myself in a furious fit of coughing. I can't think about Kain, all I can think about is the blood that's coming up from my throat and sinking into my hand as my body makes another attempt to adapt and my blood magic seeks sustenance from my own body. The coughing fits do help, though, but they hurt a lot.

It finally ends, I'm exhausted, I can barely keep my eyes open…but I have to. Kain's awake, and he's sitting right beside me. My back is to him, and the fear returns as I wonder what more I'm going to have to endure before I find a release from this nightmare.

"Why didn't you tell me you were ill?" He asks in a quiet voice, and I sense a claw reach out for me.

"Don't touch me." I murmur and, to my astonishment, his claw freezes.

"Rayne…" He whispers, "I swear, I didn't know you—"

"GET AWAY FROM ME!!" I scream in a sudden rage I only partially understand, thrashing out at him, at anything, if only so the pain might stop. "DON'T TOUCH ME!!" I scream as he grabs my wrist and tries to make me sit still, "I HATE YOU!! I HATE YOU!! I'D RATHER DIE THAN HAVE TO TOUCH YOU EVER AGAIN!!" I shriek.

Exhaustion takes over me and I black out suddenly, and my last thought is that, perhaps, he decided to grant me that wish.

&

I am alone when I awake again, and I feel a wave of relief even as I convulse into another long, painful coughing fit.

But, at least for the moment, Kain is gone.

I spend my time in a delirium of waking dreams and hallucinations, staring at the softly simmering embers, shivering even in the heavy bear's fir, suffering even as I watch the embers get up and walk around the cave changing colors, shapes, speaking to me in languages my mind does not grasp, words I am somehow able to understand, though I forget what it is I am understanding soon after I hear it. I cannot quite tell when I am sleeping and when I am awake. All I know is that the delirium is a break from the pain.

The pain returns when I am conscious again, and I am coughing hard into my hand. Blood comes out, goes back in, releases what I cannot adapt and feeds the hunger of my blood magic. Each time I feel better afterwards, but during the fits it hurts like hell.

At one time I think I see Kain again, but I can't tell whether he is real or not for he simply stands there and stairs at me. Why doesn't he just kill me? I only vaguely remember shouting at him, running from him, taking his blood. How can I still be alive? If he knows about me, shouldn't he know that I'll be a threat to him now that I have his blood in my body?

I find it hard to concentrate, hard to care. He isn't touching me anymore, I think of survival.

&

"**Is that true, Rayne? Do you hate me so much the thought of touching me is disgusting to you?"**

"_You're a monster."_

"**Is that so? You surprise me again, Rayne. Very well, I'll play your game, what is it that makes me a monster?"**

"_Nosgoth was flourishing before you rose again. There might have been hope for this decrepit world, but the moment you came back war broke out and now it's a wasteland. Nosgoth is dying, Kain, and its blood is on your hands."_

"**Nosgoth was doomed from the beginning, Rayne! You know this as well as I do, my reawakening was nothing more than a trigger, an excuse. This barren wasteland would have come about whether I had reawakened or not. Or have you still not given up hope? We failed Rayne, that's all there is to it, we failed. You and I, and Raziel. We had a chance, we took it, but it mattered not in the end. Are you going to blame me for these wars then? Nosgoth's people slit their own throats and do it willingly. I am simply the figurehead, and why not? Why not claim power for myself and replay my role as the king of a doomed empire?"**

"_And this justifies what you've done? What you condone and allow to go on? The people of Nosgoth suffer and you only pour salt in the wounds. It is cruel and unnecessary!"_

"**What have I done, Rayne? I have taken the power that was laid at my feet."**

"_You brought the vampires out into the open to ignite the wars."_

"**I refused to hide in the shadows, and those who bowed at my feet followed in my wake."**

"_Humanity was flourishing! They were accomplishing so much without us, without our presence to distract them from their industry! How much could they have accomplished in the centuries that followed had their previous civilization not been all but completely obliterated by these wars!?"_

"**You think the rising of the vampires against a system which pushed them into the darkest depths of civilization wouldn't have happened anyway? I was simply the force they needed, the leader they desired, the monarch that would unite the leading houses and join them against such oppression. This would have happened anyway, Rayne. The oppression of vampires by humans is recorded multiple times in history, but it is unnatural. We feed upon humans, we are their superiors, it is **_**we**_** who should be oppressing **_**them**_**!"**

"_I see, so we are little more than the beasts of the wilderness, are we? Might makes right, survival of the fittest, this is not a civilized society! You've turned Nosgoth's people into animals!"_

"**Ah, but, you see, I have also united the lions and the lambs as well, have I not?"**

"_Yes, by hunting down and slaughtering both vampires and humans alike who resist your claim to power! We have returned to the dark ages of a monarchy when a democracy had finally been established through much toil and suffering! That vampires and humans are forced to coexist purely for survival is a mixed blessing."_

"**Tell me something, then, say I were to simply disappear, that I was thought to be dead or defeated, do you really believe that the wars would end? That the fighting would stop and Nosgoth would pick itself up from the wreckage and make a community where vampires and humans live together as equals? No, Rayne, if anything the wars would increase dramatically as the separate houses fight for power and vampire after vampire struggles to fill the spot that would become vacant. The vampires would turn on each other, the rebels would be able to seize this weakness and do some actual damage. Nosgoth is dying, and there's nothing that can be done."**

"_And is this justification!?"_

"**I do not see the need for justification in a world that is not ruled by concepts such as right and wrong."**

"_No, this world is ruled by __**you**__! You don't need justification, you're the king, the monarch, you are the ultimate arbitrator!"_

"**I do not rule this world, Rayne, I command societies, but I do not command the Wheal of Fate, as you very well know! Do you think that if there was truly justice Nosgoth would be dying like this? The Hyldan cursed Nosgoth to its doom out of pure spite, but not even they had the free will to choose their course of action. They were simply the tool, just as I am. You know all this, Rayne, why do you insist on making me explain it to you!?"**

"_Because I DON'T know d(beep)it! I don't know who the 'Hyldan' are, I don't know __**what**__ the 'Wheal of Fate' is, I don't know who this 'Raziel' person is, I don't know __**what**__ you're talking about, and I don't know how the hell you can possibly know me when I wasn't even __**born**__ when all of this happened!! I was born 6 years before you resurfaced and all my life I've only known one thing; if I was to survive, I had to stay hidden. My mother gave me her lifeblood so I would have the benefit of all my father's protection. Then I watched as you brutally slaughtered my father as I hid in the shadows, a frightened little girl! I lived half a mile beneath the earth's surface with a blood witch to teach me her art and arm me with weapons I would need! I have survived purely on anonymity, and I have lived these 600 years in fear of you, knowing that if you so much as had a clue that a Dhampir existed, I would be hunted down mercilessly and either my life or my freedom would be stripped from me!! I don't know who you think I am, but I have never before met you, and I hate you more than anything else in the world!! I hope you die a slow, horrible death, Kain, though right now I'd just settle for __**dying**__ in the first place!!"_

"…**My god…you don't remember anything? Or…perhaps…there is nothing for you to remember…**

"**Perhaps, your past, was my future all along. And my past…is your **_**future**_**…"**

&  
Ending Notes 'N Stuff!  
&

Rhea: BASK IN MY CLIFFHANGING AWESOMENESS!! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Rayne: Okay, problem! When I go back into the past, I'm going to still be hating Kain with a vengeance, right?

Rhea: Yeah, that's right.

Rayne: So how is it possible that this present Kain could act like we were, (shudders) _lovers_ in this past when I'm likely going to do everything in my power to make sure he hates me back, if only to attempt to _erase_ the parts of history when he's got his hands all over me, and thus create a paradox where, were I to do said thing, my past self wouldn't have had any reason to ensure this and it'd just end up right back with me and Kain making out? THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE!!

Kioko: She's got a contingency plan, don't worry.

Rayne: A what? How the heck is she going to explain _this_ away!?

Rhea: WATCH AN LEARN! MUAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Kioko: Translation: wait for the next chapter, she's getting to it.

Rayne: -.- Give me the script for the next chapter.

Rhea: _Whyyyyyy?_

Rayne: I want to, ah, get an early start on rehearsing my lines.

Kain: I have a better idea. I think we should do the whole chapter over again. I mean, just to make sure we did it _right_. (Evil Grin)

Rayne: HECK NO!! This is a Raziel/OC fanfic, not a Kain/OC fanfic!! I signed up for Raziel not _you_!

Kain: We can always change that…

Rayne: HOW!? My character hates, your guts!! There is _no possible way_ to sway the plotline _or_ the authoress for that matter!

Kioko: She has Raziel's picture on her _cell phone_, you're not moving her on this I'm afraid.

Rayne: 0.0, you do?

Rhea: I have several! See? (Shows cell phone to Rayne) Observe! Here he is basking in awesome, here he is basking in more awesome, and here he is with the Reaver about to cut through the viewer's gut, and, naturally, basking in awesome!

Kain: Abject Fangirlizm is frightening…I do not envy Raziel.

Kioko: Oh look, he thinks he's gotten away Scot-Free, poor Kain.

Rhea: BY THE WAY, TO ANYONE WHO DECIDED TO JUST SCROLL ON DOWN HERE AND DID NOT SEE THE ABOVE AUTHOR'S NOTE!! Rayne actually has Fanart!

Every1: WHAT!?

Rhea: CHECKIT!!

(Unfortunately it seems as though the site is NOT going to allow me to post links to DeviantArt, or anywhere else, here, so you'll have to check out the link on Dragon260's page and look for Rayne. Check it out while I fume at whoever abused the hyper-link privileges enough to get them sucked from us like nearly all the extra characters on the number line of the keyboard)

Rayne: Whoa, that girl can _draw_.

Rhea: In honor of Dragon260, Kain shall now give Rayne a celebratory poke!

Rayne: What!?

Kain: (Grins) Do I get to choose where?

Rhea: Forehead!

Kain: Darn.

Rayne: Pervert.

It was at this time that the authoress realized the 'ending notes' were ridiculously long and decided now would be a good time to cut it off right then and there and delay Rayne's 'poke' for the next chapter if only to force the reader – (Rhea: Readers! I have more than one!) Sure you do – to come back and view it at the end of the next chapter. Incidentally, she cuts it off so swiftly she forgets to ask the reader – (Rhea: READERS, PLURAL!!) – to R&R. Not that anyone cares. (Rhea: I care…_sniff_) So? (Kioko: Hard to argue with that logic!) (Rhea: Um, who's writing this narration?)


	4. The Time Streamer's Request

A/N: No, I don't like Moebius that much. Why do you ask?

&

"A Dhampir Blood Witch in ancient Nosgoth? Kain you're mad!!"

"For all the trouble she caused you, Moebius, in your past, in her future, don't you recognize who she is?"

"I know perfectly well who she is, Kain, and do you really think you can change history by sending her back? You already know what will happen! What's the point if it makes no difference!?"

"The difference is that you really don't want her to go, do you?"

"Of _course_ I don't! That abomination could very well be responsible for the ruin of all Nosgoth! She—"

"IT IS YOUR SO-CALLED _GOD_ THAT IS TO BLAME FOR THE RUIN OF NOSGOTH AND YOU KNOW IT MOEBIUS!!"

The other voice remains silent for a moment, and Kain's anger seems to boil over. Then he speaks again, more calmly now, "Very, well, Kain. I admit it, I was wrong, I followed the path of a false god for so many years. If I could go back, I would, but I _can't_, not like this. But Kain, this has happened before, over and over again this cycle goes on, trapping all of Nosgoth in an endless loop of time. If you send her back to ancient Nosgoth, this future will be completely erased and restarted with whatever key differences her actions are able to make. But if she stays, here, now, then the cycle will be broken, and this insanity will finally end, once and for all." There is another pause, "What changes do you think you can make to the time-stream this time around, Kain? Just tell me that, won't you?"

"When I first saw Rayne, in my past, in her future, she neither knew me, nor did she know who I was. I have already made changes, Moebius, though I didn't know that's what I was doing. And now? I am going to make an even greater change." I pretend to still be out cold, even as I sense Kain's presence move close, bend down and take my hand. In it, I feel him place something cold and metal. It feels like the hilt of a sword.

"The-the _Soul Reaver_!? You're going to send her back with the Soul Reaver!? You-you can't! Kain this is utter madness!! You don't know what this will do!!" The other voice cries in a panic.

"Exactly, Moebius, I don't know, but whatever future comes of _this_, well, Nosgoth is stuck in an eternal time-loop for a reason, wouldn't you agree? And if Rayne is somehow a great enough piece of the puzzle to cause this loop, then perhaps there is still hope."

"Hope? Hope!? Against that monster, that, that _parasite_!? You _must_ be joking, Kain. All we're doing is trapping Nosgoth in an endless loop, a stalemate at best! I'm telling you it _won't change anything_!!"

"At the very least, _this time_ Raziel will not have to make that sacrifice with a completed Soul Reaver already on hand." Kain says, his voice sounding farther away now.

"Kain? Where are you going?"

"Oh, I figured you could explain the situation to her, Moebius."

"Me!? Please tell me you're joking!!"

"No joke, Moebius. This Rayne hates me quite a lot and has already tried to kill me once. Three times if you count each individual bullet an attempt. I just hope my past self will at least be able to survive her _next_ three." And here Kain gives the other a wry laugh. "Have fun."

"You, you can't leave me alone with her!! She's a blood witch!!"

"Oh, yes, about that. Something else I noticed is that her powers have already been fully awakened."

"WHAT!?"

"Yes, so she's not going to be a mere apprentice this time around either."

"AND YOU WANT TO SEND HER BACK!?"

"Yes, Moebius, I _do_!"

"And what if I were to convince her that she would do better _not_ to go back at all?"

"Now, now, Moebius, remember what happened the _last time_ you tried to rope her into doing your dirty work? You were in quite a bit of pain, if I recall correctly. Didn't she rearrange your ribs?"

"_Oh gods…_"

"And to think, _that_ Rayne was still only an apprentice blood witch. I'd _hate_ to think what she'd do to you, especially since you're but a specter now, if she _ever_ found out you were trying to deceive her into destroying what little hope Nosgoth _has_. Oh, and, make sure you mention Janos Audran, she'll want to talk to him."

"Very well, Kain, but I'm not going to convince her to go either! And if she decides not to go back in time of her own free will then it won't be on _my_ soul!" Moebius calls out, and as I crack an eye open I watch Kain's retreating back pass through the door, which shuts fast behind him, and the back of a spirit, visible even without the use of my inner eye. I find myself looking at my hand, which clutches Kain's own sword, and my mind is racing with what I have just learned.

I am still confused but, at the same time, my mind simply seems to clear with an understanding, and the confusion I had suffered before changes to realization.

"And if she decides to go back in time just to kill you, well, I won't stop her." Moebius mutters to himself, clearly not realizing that I had been conscious throughout the entire conversation. Part of me wonders whether Kain knew or not, but then, I suppose it doesn't really matter now. I am on my feet with a silent motion, not even the sword makes a sound as I pick it up off the ground, and I walk up behind the specter even as he turns around.

The look on his face when he sees me standing right behind him is priceless.

"Rearranging ribs, hm, you know, I honestly never thought of doing that on _live_ bodies." I say.

"Oh gods no…" The spector says, floating backward away from me and clutching his chest as though the memory still brings him pain. "Let me guess, you heard everything, did you?" He asks with a cringe.

"I think Kain knew I was conscious the entire time, to be honest." I answer.

"So you're going to trust him, are you? Keep in mind that he—"

"Killed my father? Yes, I know, but I'm not going to trust _you_. That he knows me because I went back in time is the only explanation for all of this. How else could he know my name? Know my power? And why the _hell_ would he just _give_ me the most powerful weapon in all Nosgoth, hmm?" I demand, shaking the blade, the 'Soul Reaver' in the specter's face, and causing him to shrink back.

"And you've decided to go through with this then!? Have you any idea just _how many times_ you have done this before!? Over and over again I come to haunt this single chamber, and only centuries after I have died, after the madness has passed, do I remember what I wish I could have known all along! Snatches and snippets, most of it, but I remember you, YOU coming here! Each time you're different, each time in a different circumstance, with a different kind of resolution. And each time I have played my part, I have explained to you what you could do in this chamber, each time hoping, praying that this time, _this time_ you'll be able to make a difference. I've lost count! I've lost many of those memories! The clearest memory I have is the one timeline without you in it, and the previous time where you were present. Last time you came to this chamber an apprentice blood witch, the time before that you were just a sorceress, once you were a mere thief, an assassin, a secret agent, you've even been the star singer of a gothic band! And always,_ always_, a Dhampir. Why? I don't know! I'm the time streamer and I don't know! I don't know why you keep being born, why you keep coming here, why this loop continues! But I promise you it won't be any different this time around either!

"But you could _end this_, gods above, you could stop the madness right now if you just _don't go back in time_!" He cries.

"So you would have me leave Nosgoth to its fate!?" I demand. "There has to be a _reason_ this is happening! There has to be something I can do in order to save Nosgoth! Maybe if you could tell me what I did wrong, what it is I keep doing, and I can figure something out!" I say.

"I don't _know_ what you're doing wrong, I don't even know what you're doing _right_!! All I know is that, for some reason, time itself has chosen _you_ to defy the fate Nosgoth has been forced into." But then he sighs heavily and the fight seems to have gone out of him, "I know I can't convince you not to go…and I suppose I still have hope that, perhaps, _this time_ you'll succeed. Doing what? I don't know, if I did, I would tell you in an instant."

"What _can_ you tell me, though?" I ask him.

He thinks for a moment, and then opens his mouth to speak, "Kain, Raziel, Janos Audran, and the Hyldan. You already know Kain from this future, but you'll need to learn about his past, as well as the other three, and you'll need to learn of them on your own. I've tried just telling you everything before, but I somehow feel that isn't how this is suppose to work.

"I do not know _when_ this machine will send you, its inner workings have been changed over time, and I couldn't tell you what to expect, other than a lot more wilderness and no technology. You won't be able to so much as get a cell phone signal, much less hook up to the internet. Even your brand of magic will be an oddity, though you couldn't say blood magic is a recent development." He tells me, looking scornful. "You can look human enough not to arouse suspicion, but know that whatever time you find yourself in there will be prejudice against the vampire race by the humans, as well as persecution."

"I figured, seeing as how the communion between vampires and humans is recent by about 300 years and I'll be entering a time _long_ before my birth." I say, rolling my eyes at him. He frowns at me, blinking in confusion.

"Exactly, _how long_ ago were you born?" He asks.

"What, are the dates all different too?" I question curiously.

"Yes, but usually you're not much older than 200." He answers, and I raise an eyebrow.

"I'll be 652 in three more months." I tell him, and his eyes grow quite wide.

"Yet…another, inconsistency…" He murmurs. "You've never been a fully-fledged blood witch before, never so old, and you've never had the Soul Reaver in your possession. Perhaps…no, I don't know that Kain has survived to be at large in this future either…perhaps…this time…" He sighs and shakes his head. "That orb over there, all you need is to simply turn it and wherever it takes you is wherever time has commanded you to be. It may be different from the last time, it may be the same, I don't know. But one thing is consistent; you will be transported sometime in Nosgoth's past around three million years, before the fall of Kain's first empire. Perhaps it would be best for you to seek out the answers without thinking about what your other selves might or might not have done. I will give you this last piece of advice, however: If you have a run-in with _my_ past self, don't trust me. At the time, I worked for, and even worshiped, the true enemy. Oh and, do me a favor, slap me."

"Say what?"

"Let's just say I'm hoping you'll be able to do it hard enough to knock some sense into me, though I'm doubtful that'll happen, at the very least I'm sure the look on my face will be worth it. And inform me that I was the one who ask you to do it too." He explains.

"I can make your blood run backwards too if you want." I suggest, and I am not disappointed with the wide bulge of his eyes as he shakes his head vigorously.

"Oh no, please! The memory of having my _ribs_ reorganized is bad enough!" He exclaims.

"But if I succeed this time then you won't have to suffer with that memory at all." I tell him, and he sighs.

"Yes, _if_ you succeed this time. Well, go on, what are you waiting for?" he asks me impatiently. "The sooner you leave the sooner I can stop existing in this wretched place. If you can _call_ this an existence."

"I suppose I just wish I were a bit more prepared for this." I answer, banishing the Reaver into subspace and regarding the spherical dial with something akin to excitement, anticipation, and nervousness. I bite my lower lip, wondering if I could ever be ready for something as phenomenal as _this_. For a moment, I wonder why I do not feel more…reluctant, why I feel no doubts as to what I must now do, even though everything has just come upon me at once, even though it's all so much to grasp, to understand.

But I do understand it, somehow it makes perfect sense, and I know that, when I go back in time, whatever the me that Kain knew did will be erased, and the future I know will not exist. Perhaps that alone is all the motivation I need. My thoughts return to Coal, to the encampment of people that were in so much turmoil they seemed like the dead walking. I had been able to help those people, to bring them back to life, give them hope, even though I didn't think there was anything I could do at first, even though I was only working to give myself something to do, something to take my mind away from my own pain.

If there were only a slimmer of hope, no matter how small, I know I would take the chance, even if this future had none of the changes that this time streamer has seen.

I take the sphere, I breathe deeply, and I turn it.

I feel a sense of distortion, a lack of existence in a physical form. I feel as though I am energy, a range of particles speeding along a funnel of some sort. There is a swirling of colors in my mind's eye. And then…

I find myself in some sort of cave. There is nothing to indicate where the time-streaming chamber was, so far as I can tell I have been transported to another place, and if I have gone back in time, there's nothing here I can use as an indicator. I turn around, intent upon heading out the cave,

And I faint dead away.

&

The first thing I think when I open my eyes again is that I hope I am not going to make a habit of fainting and waking up somewhere _completely_ different, because this has to be the third time that's happened to me in a week.

To be honest, the room I find myself in is little worse than some of the inns I've had to deal with. It is small, dirty, and lit by a flame lantern using some kind of oil as fuel. The only difference is that it appears to be made of stone rather than plaster, bricks, or wood, and someone was kind enough to give me a reasonable amount of blankets to fight against the gods-forsaken _cold_.

What was this, _winter_!? For the love of—why, of all seasons, did it have to be freak'n _winter_!?

I let out a chain of shivering swearwords and I burrow deep into the covers and swiftly change into a nice fitted deep violet sweater and black yoga pants, both of which have been enchanted with a dozen different spells to help keep me warm so I don't have to sacrifice movement by wearing bulky layers. Sure it isn't exactly bad-a(beep), but my loathing for the cold could only be matched by my loathing of Kain, so I can sacrifice looking cool and vicious to keep myself warm.

I'm able to get out of the blankets only _after_ I change, and I slip my feet into a pair of combat boots. No, sorry, no high-heels, function over fashion and all that jazz. I then put on a pair of black gloves with the same enchantment and take a brush to my tussled hair. If it weren't so cold I might braid it, or put it in a ponytail. But I can see my breath making a cloud in front of my face and I need all the cover I can get.

I leave the room, and find myself in a hall supporting evenly-spaced doors, much the same as the one I have just left. One way there is a dead end, the other I see a second hall, I walk.

Around a few corners and down a flight of steps I come into a room, and finally discover that there is, in fact, sentient life in this time.

The woman jumps up when she sees me and rushes forward, "Oh goodness, you're awake! I didn't know if—but those aren't the clothes you were wearing when they brought you here, are they? Goodness I must be getting old, but the Priest said you were to be offered proper garments. Are you hungry? You were in such a state, I didn't expect you to wake up so soon! I wasn't suppose to let you walk around unless you had time to rest properly, but you don't look so bad. Such odd clothes, but you must be wealthy to afford such an expensive dye for your shirt! And what's that on your feet? I _know_ you weren't wearing _those_ monstrosities when you came in! Well? Are you going to say something? Speak up, girl, at least tell me your name!" She chatters.

"I think I forgot how to talk…" I say, unable to do much more than stare at her.

I guess it isn't so surprising, the last time I saw a dress on anyone was when I was 5 and my mother decided to doll me up in a cute pink little travesty so I could be adorable for my father. I took one look in the mirror and started tearing stuff up like the Tasmanian Devil cartoon. Dresses and skirts all went out the window when Kain arose due to their complete and utter lack of any practical purpose, so seeing this woman wearing one like it was the most natural thing in the world is kind of throwing me for a loop here.

She just looks at me as though I have no sense and puts her hands on her hips, "I don't know where you're from, but around _here_ it's impolite to stare." She informs me primly.

"You'll have to bear with me. Where I'm from…women don't wear…that." I say, pointing to her clothing as though I don't even know what it's called.

"It's called a dress, dear." She tells me with a very patronizing voice.

It's too easy. "And these are called combat boots." I say, pointing to my feet.

"Well, now that we're better accustomed to one another's language, are you hungry?" She asks.

"Nah, I just had about three pints of blood, I'm good." I say. I wait for a moment so her eyes have time to become large and her face has time to pale before adding, "And that's called a 'joke'." I say, and my poker face breaks as break down into a laugh that I'm having a hard time suppressing, "I'm sorry! It was too easy! I couldn't resist the temptation. Yes, I'm very hungry and I would be very much appreciate something to eat."

She glares at me and purses her lips, as though she longs to chide me for joking like that, but she sighs and decides to let it slide, "Very well then, I'll get you some stew."

She does, indeed, bring me a thick stew with vegetables and chunks of meat. I can't remember the last time I've tasted such good food, and I wonder if the meat could possibly be from a cow. What a novelty! And it's warm too! Gods, back in the future people would have _killed_ for something this good! And here they are, just dishing it out to complete strangers they know nothing about.

It's almost worth finding myself in the winter season just for this.

"Would you like some more, dear?" Asks the woman after I've practically cleaned the pewter bowl she'd given the soup to me in.

"There's _more_?" I ask her in shock.

"Goodness, you _are_ hungry!" She says, taking the bowl and bustling over to wherever she cooked it in order to fill it up again. She comes back and the soup is still steaming.

But all I can do is stare at it, and then stare at her, "Are…are you sure you should be giving me this? I mean…there have to be a lot of other mouths to feed, and you don't know me at all." I say.

She blinks at me and cocks her head as though she simply doesn't know what to make of me, "You _are_ strange…is there a famine in your land?" She asks.

"You…could say that." I answer, feeling awkward as I stare at the soup, "And what food there is…well…a lot of people would give an arm and a leg for a meal like _this_, even half a bowl." I tell her.

"Eat as much as you like dear, we have plenty, I promise." She says, placing a hand on my shoulder. There's pity in her eyes, sympathy, and her touch is…caring. It feels so strange, so odd, so different from what I'm use to.

I clean my bowl once more, this time eating more slowly so I can savor the taste of it. The woman seems rather flattered that I like it so much, and is much warmer towards me even after that joke I made. She asks me if I'd like more, but I shake my head and she takes up my bowl. She leaves to put it away and then comes back. Not sure what else to do, I just wait for her and she returns, sitting down across a corner of the table from me where she was to begin with. "My name is Narobi, and I'm in charge of keeping the Sarafan dormitories in order, and for the time being, I'm also in charge of you. So—"

"I'm sorry, the _what_ dormitories?" I ask her, blinking in confusion.

"The _Sarafan_ dormitories…come girl, don't you at least know who the Sarafan are?" She asks me, and I shake my head. She sighs heavily.

"I'm…sorry, I kind of…" And here my mind suddenly comes up with the perfect excuse, "I really can't remember how I got here. I don't even know where _here_ is, and I've honestly never heard of the 'Sarafan' before." I tell her. She stares at me, though she doesn't seem too surprised.

"Nothing?" She asks, "You were found unconscious by one of the priests, I'm not sure where. What's the last thing you remember?" She asks me.

"I…going to sleep in a bear's cave?" I offer, and I scrunch up my face as though trying to remember what happened, "I had killed the bear and worked on its hide to make some firs. I cooked its meat and I buried the bits of it I didn't use into the ground so it could fertilize the earth. Umm, it was cold, but not _this_ cold, it was just the nights that were a little chilly, I think I was miles from the nearest town. I remember going to sleep in the bear's fur, but after that everything's a complete blank." I tell her.

"But, but if you live in caves, how can you afford the dye for your shirt?" She asks me in shock.

"In my land, wherever that is, dye is cheep, _food_ isn't." I answer truthfully.

"Oh…" She says. She looks sorry she asked. "So, where are you from? Do you know?" She asks, and I shake my head.

"I live an itinerant lifestyle. I'm not really _from_ anywhere." I confess.

"But…then where did you get your change of clothes? You weren't brought in with anything I didn't think." She questions.

"I know enough magic to carry my possessions without having to be holding them." I tell her shrugging, "And enough swordplay to kill a bear."

"And defend yourself against vampires too, I expect." She says, now suddenly perking up with a bit more interest than before.

"Well yeah, but I guess that goes without saying seeing as I'm still alive in spite of my wanderlust." I say smiling sheepishly. "But anyway, who are the Sarafan? I'm still completely lost."

She beams at me, "The Sarafan priests are those who have dedicated their lives to ridding the world of the vampire plague. They are noble warriors who fight to honor our god alongside Lord Moebius the Time Streamer. They have cleansed the land so much already, even though the vampires are still a great threat to Nosgoth. It was, in fact, one of the High Priests who saved you and brought you here before any harm could come to you." She says.

"Oh, wow, that's…" Stupid? Superstitious foolishness? Religious crap? Socially destructive bigotry? "Great!" I finish. I am a disgrace to my very blood. My mother and father are _both_ turning in their graves. Only they aren't, because their graves don't exist anymore do they? "Who found me?" I ask her.

"Lord Raziel." She answers. Oh you have _got_ to be f(beep)ing _kidding_ me!!

_Don't react, you don't know what the Sarafan are, how are you going to explain knowing Raziel's name? Just don't react._ "Wait a minute, _Raziel_!? Are you _serious_!? It _can't_ be!" _D(BEEP)IT, RAYNE, YOU'RE AN IDIOT!!_

Narobi stares at me, "How, how do you know Lord Raziel?" She asks.

_Lie, now, and lie convincingly or you're dead meat._ "I, I don't, I mean, I don't think I do. It's just that I had a friend named Raziel…but it _couldn't_ be the same person…could it?" I ask.

Narobi's eyes are wide as she stares at me with a very odd look that I don't quite understand. "A friend? Truly?" She asks me breathlessly, "It could be, what does the Raziel that _you_ know look like?" She asks.

"Er, well, it's been a while to be honest…" I say, and in my mind I picture my fake 'Raziel' friend as looking like Coal. "Really dark black hair, he wore it to his shoulders when I last saw him, and light blue eyes…but I still don't think it can possibly be him. How long has he been a Priest? I saw Raziel not too long ago and he didn't say _anything_ about the Sarafan or being a priest. Though at the time we were kind of running for our lives and didn't have much breath left over for chit-chat." I explain with a sheepish grin.

Narobi looks disappointed, "No, perhaps it couldn't be the same Raziel." She says.

Boy, _that_ was a close one.

"Would you still like to meet the _Priest_ Raziel?" She asks me with that strange look on her face back, only this time it is accompanied by a smile that makes me more than a little nervous.

"Uh…I guess?" I answer, and her smile only broadens.

"Then why don't you follow me to the training grounds?" She asks, grabbing my arm and yanking me up to my feet. I have no choice but to allow her to drag me along, and I wonder…

What have I just gotten myself into?

&  
Ending Notes and Stuff!  
&

Rayne: I need to get my story straight. If it's 'been a while' and I 'saw him not too long ago', one has to wonder just how in the world this woman doesn't figure out I'm lying through my teeth.

Rhea: She's trying to play matchmaker and isn't exactly paying much attention to details like that.

Rayne: _What_? With the _human_ Raziel? No thanks!

Rhea: There's nothing wrong with the human Raziel…except…you know, the 'passion which transcends all notions of good and evil' thing focused on eliminating the so-called vampire 'plague'.

Rayne: He's hotter as a vampire.

Kioko: And, naturally, that's all we care about isn't it?

Rayne: Am I going to get to slap Moebius sometime soon?

Rhea: Duh. Probably the next chapter…maybe, yeah, I think so.

Rayne: Can I rearrange his ribs too? I think the readers would like that a lot. :D

Rhea: Uh…no. Maybe later.

Moebius: Can we not and say we did?

Rhea: WHO TOLD YOU YOU COULD COME INTO THE FOOTNOTE!? GO AWAYYYYY!!

Moebius: (Sniff) (Runs off sobbing)

Kioko: O.O Whoa, Rhea made someone _else_ cry for once. I'm shocked.

Rayne: Moebius is a wuss, don't be too impressed.

Kain: (Sneaks up behind Rayne in poking preparation) :D

Rayne: HaiYAH!! (Kicks Kain in the groin)

Kain: (Lets out high-pitched whimper and falls to the ground writhing in agony)

Rhea: Rayne!! You have to let him poke you for Dragon 260!

Rayne: No.

Kioko: (Sighs) Maybe next time. R&R, or don't, I don't care.

Rhea: I do!

Kioko: So?

Rayne: Can't argue with _that_ logic!

Rhea: We already did that joke!!


	5. Breach

A/N: Have I mentioned how much I hate Moebius? Yeah, I think I have. ENJOY TEH MOE BASHING!!11ONE

&

"It, is, FREEZING out here!" I exclaim, wrapping my arms around myself as my combat boots crunch in half a foot of snow. "And I thought it was cold _inside_! Can't we go back so I can, I don't know, stand in the fireplace? I can meet the Priest when he comes back in, can't I?" I ask, shivering even as I up the level of warmth my clothes are enchanted with. My cheeks are red with the frost and I have wrapped a black scarf around my neck several times, huddling in it as well as the hair that I am _so_ glad I kept loose.

"If you travel a lot don't you get use to the cold?" Narobi asks me curiously.

"Oh I can survive worse than this, yes, but do I _like_ it? _Heeeeeell_ no! I _hate_ the cold." I tell her, "Can I _please_ go back inside?" I whine, feeling like a child, but Narobi seems to think I'm being funny and she laughs.

"Oh don't be a baby." She tells me, "Perhaps if you ask nicely the Sarafan will let you join them in practice and you'll be able to warm yourself up." She says, pointing across the courtyard where Sarafan warriors are practicing with one another using swords, spears, and, in case of most of the women, magic. I groan as she drags me forward.

"Vampire check!!" A voice suddenly shouts, and the next thing I know I am even _colder_ than I was before. What's worse, I am soaking _wet_ too. A trio of voices are laughing at my expression of shock and freezing pain.

"Well she's not melting!" One of them laughs as Narobi rounds on them with a furious shout of outrage, half of which I don't hear as the icy coldness seems to be freezing my brain.

I whisper a shivering chant and call the water to evaporate off my skin, warming me at the same time, and allowing me the ability to access my own rage as _I_ round on the three who had splashed Beelzebub's Bucket of Frostbite on me. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR!?" I demand, my shout rising well above Narobi's rage, which isn't doing anything but making them laugh harder.

"Had to make sure you weren't a vampire!" The one holding the actual bucket answers with a cocky grin, and his friends laugh. "Hence the call, 'vampire check'!" he says, and the three of them laugh.

"I'll show _you_ vampire check." I hiss, raising two glowing fingers in the air and drawing a symbol, calling the power of water to flow through my body and grant me leave to bend it to my will. I hold both hands out to the three, and then jerk them upwards so that my fingers point down. The snow itself follows my command and rises up in liquid form all around the three pranksters, all of whom stop laughing the moment they see the wall of water that now traps them where they are. The thick sheet of water is well over their heads before I jerk my hands so that the palms are out and my fingers are in a claw-like position. The water then freezes solid. A large quantity of snow then follows my hand movements into the air, and falls all over the pranksters as they shout out their apologies.

"See why I hate the cold?" I ask Narobi, who looks torn between amusement and disapproval, "Freezing death for all. May you develop hypothermia and die horribly you sadistic b(beep)s." I say, flipping off the pranksters, all of whom are now shivering sufficiently.

"Where did you learn such potent magic?" Asks a new voice behind me, sounding as though the owner were fighting hard to keep from laughing.

"From an Elemental I met a while back in Sepia." I answer honestly as I turn to find myself looking up at a rather handsome youth. He is tall, wearing leather practice armor of a fairly good quality, and he has raven black hair cut in a bowl shape with dark blue eyes. I find myself trying not to stare at him too much, but I can't help but think that if his hair was longer, if he were a bit shorter, skinnier, with pale skin and ice blue eyes instead of dark ones…he'd look almost exactly like Coal.

Good gods, could this be Raziel?

He gives me a confused look, "Sepia? Is that the country you're from?" He asks.

"Er, no, it's a city." I answer. "A big one too…" I sigh, "And, obviously, you wouldn't know where it is if you've never heard of it. D(beep)."

"Um, Miss Sorceress, we're really sorry for splashing you with water, will you let us out now?" Asks one of the pranksters tentatively.

I glare at them, "I'll think about it." I say.

"They splashed you with water?" The man asks, looking severely at the three, who have the decency to look ashamed of themselves. "Why?" He asks.

"Vampire check." I answer with false brightness, "You see it's where they splash someone with a bucket of water to see if they melt or not! If they do, they're a vampire, if they don't, they freeze to death!" I say, wrapping my arms back around myself. I look around, and notice a certain middle-aged someone has left my side. "Hey, Narobi disappeared. Excellent! Maybe now I can sneak back inside where there's fire and warmth!" I say, but the man puts a hand on my shoulder before I can take too many steps back towards the doors.

"Would you mind, terribly?" He asks, gesturing to the pranksters, though he's grinning with amusement now, "It'll take a lot of work to break them out I'm afraid, and the sun isn't likely to melt the ice soon enough for them to get to their chores." He tells me.

"Oh very well." I sigh, casting a heating spell around the ice so that it melts away, as well as the snow that's covering the pranksters, meaning they are now completely soaked with water that's only just warm enough to be liquid. They rush back inside to find a fire for themselves and I snicker. "That'll teach them to make 'vampire checks' when it's cold as death." I say with contempt.

"Indeed it will!" The warrior says, laughing openly now, "So tell me, are you as good with a sword as you are magic?" he asks me.

"Maybe." I say, and I smirk at him, "Why? Are you interested in finding out?"

He smirks back, "Perhaps." He answers, and then he bows to me, "Would you honor me with a spar, my lady?" He asks me.

"Well, since you asked me so nicely…"

I am given leather practice armor made for a woman to slip on over my clothes as well as a sword that is similar to the one the warrior I'm going to battle has at his hip. It's uncomfortable, though, and it's obviously built for women who work out too much to have that much of a chest, so I find myself altering it with magic and hoping no one notices. It'd be too tough to move in for my liking otherwise.

We have a sparring ring that has been cleared of snow a ways off from the bulk of the trainees, but I still find myself getting furtive glances, and eyes still seem to be drawn to this ring. I'm not sure if it's because I just displayed a form of magic unknown to these people, or if I am, in fact, about to spar with Raziel, one of the High Priests of the Sarafan, or even a combination of the two. I just hope a crowd isn't going to gather.

"Um, before we start, I think I should tell you that I'm not use to fighting for practice or sport." I tell the Sarafan warrior as the two of us step into the ring. My sword is in one hand and is held at my side, slanted so its tip does not drag on the ground, but ready in spite of the appearance of its resting position. "So I don't know the rules of a practice ring. Most of my experience has been in a kill or be killed kind of situation." I confess.

"I see. Well it's simple, we are not aiming to kill one another, of course. There are three ways to win. First, you disarm your opponent. Second, you knock them out of the ring. Third, you draw first blood. But we can also fight until one of us chooses to stop." He tells me, and I nod.

This will be an interesting challenge for me. I will need to hold back quite a lot of speed and strength so that I don't seem less than perfectly human, which I can do as I've done it plenty of times before, but even relying on the skills I've gained from the blood of many swordmasters, it will be a new experience using them to simply disarm or draw a bit of blood rather than cause serious damage and/or kill.

His stance has his legs apart, facing me full on, with both hands on his blade pointed at me. It is a powerful stance, yes, but one that relies too much on bruit force for my tastes. Mine is more relaxed, left foot in front, sword in right hand held ready even though it appears rested, and my left hand held in front of me in a knife-like position. He raises an amused eyebrow at me, and just smiles, as though he thinks this is going to be an easy victory.

That assumption will cost him.

He charges, aiming to get me in the shoulder, but I dodge this attempt easily by side-stepping him. He adjusts by swinging his sword in my path, I block it easily with my own. I twist the blade, then jerk it. His sword goes flying across the arena. "Thanks for going easy on me, but I'm not even going to break a sweat like this." I say to his stunned expression.

He grins, "I underestimated you, forgive me, I'll try harder this time." He says, looking quite pleased actually.

He does try harder this time, but he only gives me his best after a few moments of going head-to-head when he realizes I am, in fact, _quite_ skilled with the sword. His style relies a lot on strength and force, and while he does have a lot of skill in this specific style, his technique is as simple as it is brutal and I can predict his moves with an ease that costs him dearly. He is a powerful opponent, but brute strength doesn't do much good against a large range of styles that are designed to use an opponent's own strength against them, focusing on speed, skill and swift-thinking more than power. It also doesn't help that I have a very flexible body and acrobatic skills that I display when he nearly has me out of the ring, but I jump into the air, flip right over his head, and spin so I land gracefully behind him.

"That's cheating!" He exclaims, though his eyes are flashing with an enjoyment born of our blade dance. There is sweat on his brow, but even though I am more skilled, more swift, and know more styles than I have fingers, he possesses the strength and endurance that makes beating him down a bit of a challenge, especially since I am limited to exerting human speed and strength.

"Oh yes, and in a real battle of life-and-death your opponent is going to stick to the rules of the ring, are they? Besides, I don't remember you telling me I couldn't do that to begin with." I say, blocking his next charge. Our swords clash with a mixture of different styles, and it's that, more than anything, that seems to be throwing him off his game. I simply do not fight the way he's use to his opponent fighting while in the ring, and while he's good, in fact he's _very_ good and I wouldn't mind adding _his_ skills to my collection, he simply doesn't have as much ability to adapt to different styles as I do, and because of that, he's loosing. In fact, I'd have him on the ground already if I didn't have to limit my strength and speed to more human proportions. Still, neither of us are aiming to kill, and that's forcing us _both_ to hold back in some manner.

When I win, I do it by rolling on the ground to get out of the way of his blade's attack, and then leaping up behind him with a slash of my blade that cuts across the back of his armor, calculated so that it only _just_ grazes his skin and nothing more. I jump and back-flip in the air in case he makes a swipe at me while turning around, but I needn't have bothered.

Finally the battle is over, and I've drawn first blood.

A round of whispering and scattered applause alerts me to the fact that we did end up drawing a crowd. Not a big one, but enough. The priest I have been fighting turns and bows. "You are a worthy opponent!" He says, his fingers reaching back to find the hairline cut I'd made in his flesh. He's breath is heavy and he is sweating. So am I, actually. The Priest gave me quite the workout even if I _wasn't_ using my full strength.

"So are you." I tell him, returning the bow. "That was kind of fun, but why do we suddenly have an audience?" I ask.

"Because you just defeated one of the High Priests in the ring!" Someone shouts at me.

"Say what!? You didn't tell me you were a High Priest, that's cheating!" I say.

"How is that cheating, exactly?" He asks me, confused.

"I don't know, I just wanted to throw your own words back at you somehow. Give me a few minutes, maybe I'll think of a reason." I answer, and he laughs.

&

"To be perfectly honest, when I heard 'High Priest', I had this image of an old man wearing robes with a staff in his hand chanting and hacking alternatively." I confess. I had followed the Priest back into the blessed warmth of the inside, though it wasn't as warm as I'd like, and had since learned, due to an exchange of names, that he is, in fact, _the_ Raziel. I contemplate the coincidental situation I've found myself in, having not only found one of the four names Moebius had given me, but had _been found_ by him.

Once again I am rewarded for my efforts with a hearty laugh as I slip the leather practice armor I was given up over my head and release the spells I'd placed on it to return it to its former shape. "You are a strange one, aren't you?" he says, "I can't imagine how you've been able to keep up your humor in an environment that has made you both a formidable swordswoman _and_ sorceress."

"Even in dire situations, people need to be able to laugh." I tell him, "Humor is one of the gifts that keeps us sane even if the world around us is being destroyed. Being able to laugh no matter how hopeless everything seems is a strength I wouldn't be able to survive without." I say. "Of course that's just me, everyone's different, some have to keep a hard outer shell, others cover up their fear by playing vicious _jokes_ on people without thinking about possible repercussions." I add with a glower.

"You're never going to forgive them for that are you?" Raziel asks me.

"I _hate_ the cold, okay!? Blood does not flow very well when it's _cold_! And blood must flow for bodies to move and I like movement, movement is a _good_ thing! And here they go throwing a bucket of freezing wet death one me when I'm already regretting the moment I let Narobi talk me into going outside!" I rant. "'Vampire Check', ye gods, next time why don't they just _ask_ me, 'excuse me miss, are you a vampire walking around broad daylight in the heart of an establishment whose sole purpose is to kill you?' I mean how hard could _that_ be?!" I demand, turning my back against the fire and rubbing my rear end to work the frost out of it. Exercise or not, it's still freezing cold out there.

And, of course, Raziel is thoroughly amused by my ranting as he appears to be fighting against the urge to laugh. "And if you were a vampire, what would you say to that?" He asks me grinning.

"I'd say, 'Vat, ze fangz and ze pale skin aren't enough ov a clue, you 'av to _ask_ as vell? Idiot.'" I answer, adopting a thickly dramatized Transylvanian accent. Raziel looks at me for a moment, and then he busts out laughing.

"I have…never met a woman like you before." He tells me, moving beside me to warm his hands before the fire.

"Don't feel too bad, I'm considered strange were I'm from too." I tell him. I can't help but notice we're the only ones in this room. It's like a branch off the armory and connected to the kitchens. It's small, but it has a long bench table and braziers. I guess this is where the priests and priestesses hang out after training for a few minutes.

Raziel is silent for a moment, and I realize he is staring at me with a strange intensity, "This may sound strange, but…ever since I found you in that cave, I felt as if I know you from somewhere." He says.

"Really?" I ask, looking at him, and wondering if this is somehow significant. Does this, perhaps, mean that I need to travel back further in time somehow? And that we meet then, for the first time for him and second for me? Or am I reading too much into this and I'm just familiar to him because I remind him of his mother? "Uh, maybe I remind you of your mother?" I offer aloud.

Raziel shakes his head. "I never knew my mother." He tells me. "I was orphaned as a child. An old wise woman took me in and raised me until one day a nobleman came and asked for me to be a companion for his son." He says. "When his son died of…of a vampire attack, he adopted me as his own child. But soon after adolescence I chose to join the Sarafan as a priest." He says.

I stare into the fire without really seeing it. "My mother died when I was six…not long after I witnessed my father being murdered by a powerful vampire. I was able to stay hidden because a powerful witch taught me how to hide in the shadows where not even vampires can find you. Since then I've grown stronger in the magic she taught me, and have used it to survive. It's a dark, potent magic, though, nothing like the elemental powers you saw me use before. If anyone in my land knew I had it…I'd become targeted, either as an ally or as a threat. One way I loose my freedom, the other I loose my life. I'd prefer the latter." I say.

"But, you are not in that land anymore." Raziel tells me, taking my hand, and I find myself facing him and his intensely blue eyes. I have to stifle a gasp, I feel a shock of…of _something_, something _intense_ through the physical contact. Like a brimming of electricity on the other side of a glass surface, the realization that it is there, that all it needs is an opening. It is incredible! Is this what they mean when you hear talk of there being a 'spark' between two people?

"I, no, I'm not…" Is all I can think to say. Raziel hasn't noticed anything himself. Either he didn't feel the spark when our skin came into contact, or he was feeling it already.

A hand reaches to touch my cheek, "You're eyes…" He whispers, staring deeply into mine with his own, "They are violet." He says.

"Yes, I…too much dabbling in magic, I'm afraid. They use to be gray." I admit to him. Our faces are only inches apart now, and that power, that electricity seems to be passing through the barrier and shooting into me in miniscule yet nonetheless shocking bursts, as though it senses me and is trying desperately to enter my body, and can't. But what is it? It's so beautiful, I can almost see it behind his eyes, that power, that lightening. Blue-white, swirling designs of gothic patterns with swooping arches and sharp edges.

"They're beautiful." He murmurs. His lips are on mine, I close my eyes, and for a moment all I can see is that swirling vortex of beautiful designs, moving, shifting, a powerful blue around a tiny, yet brilliant sphere, almost like a galaxy. I am at once in awe of this sight, hungry for it, desiring it, and yet frightened of it as well. I feel as though it is attempting to reach me, to touch me, but it cannot, even though its attempts are thrilling and filled with something like power.

But then that sight pulls itself away as Raziel suddenly breaks off the kiss, "F-Forgive me!" He gasps, looking shocked and embarrassed, "I should not have been so audacious, I do not know what came over me, I—"

I cut him off, "Raziel?"

"Milady?"

"Shut up." I say, grabbing him by the back of the head and pulling him back down the few inches of height difference and kissing _him_ now. His breath catches in his throat, his arms slip around my waist, clutching me to his chest with a strength that could match a vampire. I don't know what it is he feels, a connection, perhaps born of our entwined fates, if that is how this is going to turn out, or maybe he can sense something off about me and this is how he is interpreting the sensation. Whatever it is, I don't know that I am feeling the same thing, but I _do_ feel a connection. A spark, so to speak, between us that isn't connected to the blue light within him. But that blue light is a big part of this, and even though I don't understand it, I can't seem to think straight enough to be practical and try to figure out what it could be, nor to question why it is _he_ has it. All I can think of is him, the light, our connection,

And how much I'm tired of being alone.

We break apart, panting for breath, both of us slightly bemused by the unexpected thrill, though, I imagine, for different reasons. "I…" Raziel swallows, "I have never felt this way before, it's…so sudden. Have you cast a spell upon me?" He asks.

"If I have I think it's backfiring." I answer breathlessly, moving in for another kiss, but my mind has suddenly returned from its momentary vacation, and I pull back. "No!" I gasp, suddenly seeing Coal's face in Raziel, seeing him huddled next to me, dying, leaving me alone again. No, I won't do this, not again, not so soon, it hurts too much. "I, I'm sorry, I can't do this!" I say, stepping away from Raziel, even though every part of me wants so much to sink into his embrace.

His face is confused, surprised, and…hurt, "No, _I_ am sorry, I should not have put you in this situation." He says, turning his eyes away from me.

"Godd(beep)it, Raziel, it's not _your_ fault!" I exclaim. "Look, I've been through a lot in the past, and I have a hard time trusting people. I don't know what this is between us, nor do I know how it could have sprung up out of nowhere like this, but pursuing it isn't a luxury that I have. And the truth is…I'm here for a reason, but I can't tell you what that reason is." I say. "I can't tell anyone, so I've just been pretending I don't know how I got here or where I am. I know where I am, I just don't know anything about this place." I confess, not looking at him.

"And, how you got here?" He asks me, and there is a wariness in his voice and manner now.

"I can't tell you that either." I say.

"Rayne…I…I'm going to have to ask you why you're here." Raziel says, and there is pain in his eyes as his duty comes sweeping out to get him.

"If you're asking me why I'm in the Sarafan Stronghold, I can answer you honestly that I have no reasons for being _here_ specifically, other than that you brought me here. I didn't even know what a 'Sarafan' was before coming here. I can also tell you that I don't honestly know whether or not my purpose here will involve the Sarafan at all." I admit.

"Can you tell me the nature of your purpose?" He asks me, looking a bit relieved at the answer I already gave him.

"Benevolent to Nosgoth itself. My ends, that is, but I don't know if I will possess the luxury of having…similarly characterized means." I answer.

"Sometimes an evil is necessary to do what you must. I understand, and I won't ask you to tell me anymore." Raziel says, nodding, but then his eyes become sad once more, "But I wish it were different…for us." He says, tentatively reaching out a hand to me, waiting for a sign to tell him to stop. He places it on my cheek, and I reach up to clutch it there, closing my eyes and savoring the feeling of connection, and the sight of that beautiful and terrible force.

"We are communal beings," I murmur, "Isolation is unnatural, but, sometimes, it is necessary." I say, and I take his hand from my cheek and move it away.

"How long will you stay?" he asks.

"I should probably leave tonight, at least." I answer.

"No, please, stay just a little longer!" He pleads, taking a step forward, but I step back, shaking my head.

"Raziel, you don't know me, thus far you have only seen one side of me, but—" I am cut off, however, by the opening of the door and the reappearance of Narobi, who looks like she does _not_ want to be here.

"Lord Raziel," She says, "Lord Moebius has sent for you! He says he's detected a dark presence within the Sarafan walls!" She tells him.

"A vampire?" Raziel asks, looking alarmed.

"That would be me." I say with a sigh and Narobi glares at me.

"What!?" Raziel gasps.

"This is no time for jokes, Miss Rayne!" Narobi tells me furiously, "You should come with me to safety."

"I'm not joking, believe it or not." I say, seriously, "It's likely I _am_ this 'dark presence'. Remember that dark magic I was telling you about?" I ask Raziel.

"I don't believe possessing the ability to use dark magic would make you evil." He tells me.

"No, it wouldn't, but it might make me _seem_ like a 'dark presence', especially if whatever you use to detect this darkness does so by picking up the negative energies given off by a vampire's life force, or even its aura." I answer, quite honestly, actually. In my human form I do not have a vampire's aura, just as in my vampire form I do not have a human's aura. Unfortunately my human aura is saturated with the negative energies of awakened blood magic, and while there _are_ ways to hide it so that the readings can be interpreted as being any number of dark magics, the fact that I am a user of certain…unsavory arts can't be completely hidden. At least, not for very long.

"Then, maybe you should come with me." Raziel says, and I nod solemnly, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that coming face-to-face with Moebus's past self is likely going to cut whatever bond we might have had completely.

Because I will be leaving this place, one way or another.

&

"Ah, Raziel." Says a familiar voice, "This may not be cause for concern, but I wanted to be sure—" I come into the chamber behind Raziel, and Moebius's eyes are upon me. They grow wide at the sight. Raziel attempts to introduce me and explain, but Moebius pushes past him, his face bearing only shock and awe. Ye gods, is it _that_ obvious!? "My god, you." He murmurs, "Is it, _possible_? Are you…tell me, are you a, a _Soul Singer_?" He asks.

I raise an eyebrow at him. Soul Singer? What the crap? "What the heck is a 'Soul Sing—_ooooooh_." I say, eyes wide with realization. It fits, and is plausible that, in this era, the blood witches would be called something different. To be honest, 'Soul Singer' is a lot better a description of what we are than 'blood witch', though our magic deals both with blood and the souls of the dead. We sing to awaken our magic, and our greatest power is our ability to call the souls of the dead to do as we wish, or to send them where we desire. Either into rebirth or the afterlife. Typically the afterlife as it was the most kind. "Right…wow, is it that obvious?" I ask, "Wait a moment, how the heck do _you_ know what that is!?" I demand. So far as I could tell, if the blood witches/Soul Singers ever existed this far into Nosgoth's past, they kept themselves to themselves and wisely stayed hidden.

Moebius shrinks away from my outburst, "Please do not be cross, as the Time Streamer, I know much, and I was…informed of your possible arrival. You honor me with your presence, to be sure. I know well that your creed shy away from discovery. But I know very little aside from this, I promise you." He says.

He is singing a _very_ different tune from the Moebius I met in that time-streaming chamber, and this makes me suspicious, and better inclined to trust his future self's advice about not trusting _him_. The future Moebius did _not_ like it that I was a blood witch AKA: Soul Singer. _This_ Moebius, however, is almost groveling at my feet, though not quite. There's something odd about his air…and suddenly, I realize what it is.

"Lord Moebius, who is this woman?" Asks one of the other priests.

"She," Moebius begins, but I cut him off.

"You're lying to me, aren't you?" I ask him, "You know more about the Soul Singers than you want to admit. You're not honored by my presence at all, you're _terrified_, because even if you knew _half_ of what I'm capable of, you would be."

"Soul Singer, I am not—" but suddenly I have a blade at his throat, and not just any blade either. It is what's called a blood implement. A curved dagger with an iron handle bearing a ring at its end where a long lock of my own red hair, woven into a thick rope, is tied with a sacred knot at the ring. The blade is made of glass that has been treated with extreme heat, and within the glass is what looks to be a tangle of dark red hair, but it is actually the blood of thousands that has been accumulated over many years by many generations of blood witches before me, having been handed down from master to apprentice, finally coming to me when I completed my training with my own master. It is my most powerful and deadly weapon, but it is a recognizable weapon in 27th century Nosgoth, and using it then would mean revealing myself to be a blood witch. Here, however, only Moebius would recognize what it is, and I'm pleased to see that he does not, but that doesn't stop him from being terrified.

"Go ahead Moebius, tell me the truth. Is this respect you are showing me born of reverence, or fear?" I ask.

"Rayne! What are you doing!?" Raziel exclaims in shock. He moves forward and takes my wrist, forcing my hand away from Moebius, "Please, do not harm my lord!" He says.

"Raziel, no! Stand down!" Moebius exclaims in shock, and in terror.

Surprised, Raziel let's go of my hand, staring alternatively at Moebius and me, confused, and alarmed.

"I, I know why you are here, and I can help you." Moebius tells me swiftly.

"Really now, and just why am I here, Moebius?" I ask him, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.

"You, you want to kill the vampire, Kain." He answers, and I pause.

Hmmm, so he doesn't know why I'm _really_ here, that's comforting. But while killing Kain would, more or less, just be icing on the cake, if I can't get the cake I'd be happy with just the icing. And this would be a good opportunity to weasel some information out of this past Moebius. I banish my implement, "Alright, Moebius, I'm listening."

Encouraged by this, Moebius smiles, "Come with me. There is much I can tell you." He says.

&

Moebius and I are now alone as we walk along the hall, where depictions of warriors triumphing over monstrous-looking vampires with blue skin and black wings are artfully crafted with stained glass. This both sickens and intrigues me. I wonder, do the ancient vampires really look like that? None of the vampires _I've_ ever encountered had blue skin, but perhaps they, like the blood witches' name, are different.

"I fear you have come a bit early for your goal, My Lady." Moebius says. "The one you seek will not actually be born for another five hundred or so years." He explains, and my eyes grow wide as I turn to stare at him.

"You're _kidding_." I say. Just how far back in time do I need to be!?

Moebius chuckles, "However, you may yet get what you desire sooner than you think. While the child Kain must be allowed to grow to adulthood and fulfill his purpose, another Kain, a, _future_ Kain has traveled back in time, and, in fact, is in existence at the moment of his own birth. It is that Kain which poses the threat." He tells me.

The threat to _what_, I wonder. In spite of my own personal feelings towards Kain, I can't help but feel that the fact that Moebius desires him dead is a good sign, the fact that he is a 'threat' to Moebius, means that, as much as I hate to think about it, he is an 'ally' to me.

But Moebius doesn't need to know this.

The future Moebius had told me to learn of this past Kain, and I am curious as to what this 'purpose' is that prevents Moebius from killing Kain at his birth. So I make an inquiry, and this Moebius is more than happy to fill in the blanks.

Kain was, shockingly, born human, and he grew into nobility. But one day he was murdered, and then Mortanius, a necromancer, brought him back to life, to an _un_life, using a relic titled the Heart of Darkness. Kain then sought out the reason for his murder, and encountered Ariel, the murdered Balance Guardian who had been assassinated by the order of the same people who sought to kill Kain.

I listen as Moebius explains what the 'circle' is and how its nine members, each guarding a different aspect of Nosgoth's existence, fell into madness brought by Ariel's murder, and thus had to be systematically killed by Kain. But in the end, when it came to the final sacrifice, when the last of the circle had to be killed so that new guardians could be born, Kain refused to kill himself, as he had been born the next Balance Guardian, and thus will doom Nosgoth to an eternity of decay and corruption.

Kain builds his first doomed empire around the fall of these Pillars, which I assume is another name for the members of the Circle, and apparently, after over a millennia, decided to go back in time in an attempt to change history for the worse.

I'm not sure how it can possibly get worse, but, then, I already decided I would take whatever Moebius gives me with a grain of salt.

One thing I have gleaned from this, whatever this past/future Kain has planned for coming back in time, Moebius really doesn't want him to succeed.

We enter a chamber whose construction I recognize, or rather, it is at least familiar, especially that glowing lavender orb upon the turnstile in its center.

Moebius has led me to another time-streaming chamber.

"Are you sending me forward to the correct time?" I ask him.

"Ah, I see you are familiar with these chambers. Naturally, or would you rather wait 500 years for your prey?" Moebius asks me slyly.

Somehow, I don't quite feel as though going to the future so soon after getting here is the best course of action. I have been sent to this specific time for a reason, whatever that might be, and I want to get a better feel for what all is going on here before I charge right into the thick of all this.

"Perhaps not, but before I go, I'd like to ask about Janos Audran." I say.

"Aaaah, yes, the last of the ancient vampires. Do not worry about him. At the time you travel to, he will be long dead." He tells me.

"He isn't now?" I ask, playing this by ear.

"Alas, yes, we have yet to reach him. He hides atop his mountain retreat to the east just out of our reach." He answers, "But rest assured, we will prevail." He tells me.

"I see, well, Moebius, I admit you have been helpful, but I feel it would be wisest to explore this time a little more before heading into the future." I say.

"No!" He exclaims, much more swiftly and firmly than, I'm sure, he intended, "No," he amends, "There, there is no need. I have already told you all you need to know, I promise you that." He says.

I raise an eyebrow, "Oh really? Well now, here's the problem, Moebius, I don't trust you, and so, I don't trust your 'promises'. I am going to do a little of my own digging whether you like it or not, and that you obviously don't, well, that must mean there's something here you're trying to hide, something you don't want me to learn about." I pause for a moment and consider his badly concealed fear and his assuring stammers that I don't bother listening to. I tap my chin in a thoughtful sort of way, and ask, "It wouldn't happen to have anything to do with Raziel, would it?"

I hit the nail on the head with that one. "R-R-Raziel? He is, he is a great Priest, my lady, worthy and virtuous but, but there is nothing—"

"Moebius, that is the second time I have caught you in an outright lie." I say, and suddenly, before he can blink, I have my implement at his neck once more, "I _know_ there is something…different, about Raziel. I knew before I even asked. But what I know about him and what you know are likely two different things. Being the 'Time-Streamer' I can only guess what _your_ knowledge involves, but I'm not likely to trust what you tell me. It's likely the answers I seek are in the future, but I'm not leaving until I've found out what, exactly, it is you _don't_ want me to know. Oh, but, before I leave," I say, remembering something I had almost forgotten.

SMACK!!

I strike Moebius with my free left hand, which is just as strong and accurate as my right due to an ambidexterity I absorbed through the blood of several left-handed people, and he goes sprawling. The look on his face…Dang, I wish I had working a camera on me. For it is, indeed, _priceless_.

"And, by the way, you asked me to do that."

&  
Ending Notes and Stuff!  
&

Rhea: And thus Moebius has been smacked!

Rayne: That felt good.

Rhea: Wanna do it again? (Holds up metal bat)

Rayne: :D You have to ask? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! (Runs after Moebius)

Moebius: AAAAAAAAHHH!! HAVE MERCY!! (Runs awayyy)

Rayne: Mmmm, no. (Hits him).

Moebius: Oh god! (Bam!) (Falls to the ground) (BAM!) Why is the world blue? (BAM!) Now it's red, that can't be good. (BAM! BAM! BAM!) (Silence)

Rhea: Good thing blood witches absorb blood through their skin or you'd be a _mess_ right now.

Rayne: Worth it! (Ish very happeh now)

Kain: POKE ATTACK!! (Comes after Rayne with an extended claw)

Rayne: -.- (Smacks Kain in the face using elemental earth magic that is a base rip-off from Avatar: The Last Airbender) (Kain falls to the ground unconscious with a broken tooth) Next time, don't shout your sneak/poke attacks, stupid.

Rhea: Rayyyyyyyyne!

Rayne: I don't like being poked, okay!?

Human Raziel: (Sneaks up behind Rayne) (Pokes her in the side)

Rayne: EEEEP! (Rounds on H. Raziel with a glare)

H. Raziel: Sorry, but you know how it is with the reverse psychology and—(BAM!!) (Is smacked with the bat and flies across the room, slamming into the wall)

Rhea: :O But, but, but—YOU'RE SUPPOSE TO BE IN LOVE WITH HIM YOU CAN'T _DO_ THAT!!

Rayne: Yeah, so's every other female OC in the LoK fandom.

Kioko: That's not entirely true…but yeah, that seems to be the majority.

Rhea: There's a reason for that!!

Kioko: Raziel is over-liked.

Rhea: WHAT!? HOW DARE YOU!!

Kioko: I prefer Kain, personally. Though that's mostly because of how much gold I can make harvesting his blood and selling it on the Witch's Market. (Bends down over the unconscious Kain with a needle, a tourniquet, and an evil grin) Heheheh.

Rayne: She's not exactly the romantic type, is she?

Rhea: She had her heart surgically removed a long time ago so she could focus on her magic and ignore the male population. So no, she's not.

Rayne: Okay, hold up, if she's your muse, and she, literally, has no heart, HOW THE HECK DO YOU CONTINUOUSLY PUT ROMANTIC TWISTS IN ALL YOUR STORIES!?

Rhea: Well I—

SUDDEN ENDING

…

Please R&R.


	6. The Marching Sane

A/N: HEY EVERYONE!! I DID A LITTLE COMIC WITH RAYNE IN IT!! Go check it out on my DA account connected to the homepage link on my profile!!

&

Moebius is _not_ happy with me. How can I tell? Well he's decided that, if I'm not going to be his compliant little pawn, I somehow need to be exterminated, and that means alerting the entire fortress that I'm a threat, thus making it more difficult to leave than it really should have been. And while shadow-walking was still an option to me, as one of the commonly used realms did _not_ involve copious amounts of pain and torment every time I used it like the Window World, it still wasn't something I was in the habit of doing. It felt like cheating, somehow, but at the same time, I really did _not_ want to hurt these people.

But I've had to do things I didn't want to often enough that I do not hesitate if I see no alternative.

Kain's blood only now seems to be taking its effect, granting me increased speed, strength, and stamina. Not that I need it, really, but faced with a fortress filled with alerted vampire hunters on the look out for a woman with red hair, I'll take all the advantages I can get whether I need them or not. Years of surviving in Nosgoth's doomed future have thoroughly beaten out cockiness and arrogance, both of which are easily responsible for many of the near-fatal mistakes I've made in my life.

And just because I have the power to draw the lifeblood directly out of these humans needing nothing more than a moment of eye-contact or a break in the membrane of their flesh, that doesn't mean I particularly _want_ to use it.

I am running through the fortress, slowly gaining a rough idea of the layout from those I am forced to cut down, the splatter of their blood drawn to my body, sinking through my clothing and into my skin. In one hand I hold the blood implement, in the other a sword of my own, made from a stronger material than what these people use due to a mixture of chemical ingenuity and magical treatment. It can cut through their armor easily, sometimes too easily, but I resist the desire within me to take their lifeblood, to steal it all for the pleasure of taking it directly from the heart.

But now I know where I need to go and how I can get there even with Sarafan warriors coming after me.

I slip unseen into the dormitories, and I come face-to-face with Narobi, who stares at me in shock, but not in fear. No, not yet. "Miss Rayne!" She cries, "What's going on?! The entire fortress is in an uproar, is it a vampire!?" She asks.

"Not exactly, but it might as well be." I answer her, and I swallow hard.

"Rayne, why are you looking at me like that, what's wrong?" She asks, seeing the pain in my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Narobi, but I lied to you. I'm not from some faraway land," I tell her, wanting, willing her to understand, to know everything before I leave, even if she hates me for it, "But I can't tell you where I'm really from or why I'm here. Not even I'm sure why I'm here, but I'm going to find out. Unfortunately that involves defying your Lord Moebius, who feels, not without reason, that I am a threat. And so he has the entire fortress coming after me. I'm sorry we couldn't be friends, but there's more at stake here than you can imagine." And with that, I run.

I don't want to see her face, and I don't listen to the words she calls out to me as I flee from her, as though her words could hurt more than a knife in my gut.

The sad truth is, they could.

&

I remember what a rarity the sun sometimes was in Nosgoth, or will be depending on how you look at it. Vampires who were unable to resist its rays simply moved to parts of the world where the black clouds never lifted, and the darkness was broken only by some superficial light given off through electricity. Fake light that didn't hurt due to the lack of UV rays that burn those vampires whose flesh has no resistance to them. And in other parts of Nosgoth, only vampires with full resistance to the sun's rays can live, and not even humans are able to stay because the atmosphere in these areas possesses holes which allow the sun to burn whatever it touches, searing the land itself and creating barren wastelands where the sparse grasses and trees that some of Nosgoth is lucky enough to have simply does not exist and _cannot_ exist. And even then, only the most desperate hide in these places, whether they have full immunity to the sun or not.

This Nosgoth, even in winter, is blessed with more sun than it's future, a sun that is not strong enough to melt the ice or warm the land even as it shines down upon me full force through a break in the iron gray clouds above. And even as I am being chased, or hunted, rather, as I escape from the Sarafan fortress, I can't help but admire the beauty that the snow and the ice give to the land beyond the wall.

The water has been frozen into a thick sheet that stays hard, even as I jump from a high ledge and land upon it with my less-than-dainty combat boots.

"You'll have to try a bit harder than that, or do you honestly want to catch me?" I call over my shoulder, laughing at the shouts of outrage that follow me even as I run across the thick ice, my eyes finding an easy path up the cliff. Yeah, they're really going to chance jumping down from that height, but I still get the feeling that they don't really want to catch me, knowing how easily I've been defeating their brethren and preferring that I _leave_ the fortress anyway.

I jump up the heights, using elemental magic to call the wind beneath my feet to propel me up to the areas I wouldn't have been able to reach even with the height my strong legs allow me to jump.

I am out of the Sarafan Stronghold, I'm not sure where I'm going, but I hope I can figure something out along the—

"What the hell are _those_!?"

&

I made for the white monuments that reached up into the sky, forever seeking the stars, it seems. Monuments that I had never seen before, that I'd never even _heard_ of, white and significant, visible even in a clouded sky. They towered impossibly before me, and I couldn't help but feel as though their presence here, and their utter absence in Nosgoth's future, was somehow _very_ important.

And here I was thinking the 'Pillars' was just another name for members of the circle! They're actual pillars! Good god where'd they _come_ from!?

But I have stopped on my journey towards them, barricaded, not by armed soldiers, but by a field of death, rot, and decay.

I have seen many things, many cruelties played out by the desperate and the hopeless, people, humans and vampires alike, who give in to Nosgoth's madness and slaughter one another, believing they'll be able to survive if there are fewer mouths to take the food that is so precious, when the fact is that the more individuals there are in a single society, the more likely it is that they'll be able to survive through their combined strength and skills.

But this, this is not the work of the desperate and the hopeless. I have seen the thriving society within the Sarafan Stronghold, I have tasted the food they have in such abundance they'd just give it away to complete strangers, seen their architecture, the art their people are able to put into these structures. A society at a height can afford to put beauty into their culture, whereas to Nosgoth's future, simply possessing such a stronghold is a rarity, and each and every inch of it is built, not for beauty, but for practicality.

There is no reason other than blind prejudice and pointless hate for _this_.

The bodies are everywhere, staked up into the air with cruel poles of wood and iron. Banners that display a familiar symbol are everywhere, so that I know this is the work of the Sarafan. An orderly killing, the purging of the supposed 'plague' which is no more than a massive genocidal insanity.

It is strange, however, that the souls of these vampires are still around, even though they have been dead for a long time. In Nosgoth's future, the blood witches, even while they are being frowned upon because of some of the less…favorable aspects of their power, are often praised simply for their ability to send a soul, even a vampire's soul, on to the afterlife whether it be unwilling, or unable, to go itself. And sometimes a vampire's soul can't leave the body and haunts the place of its death or the area of its burial forever until pity is taken upon it. But here, all of the souls are bound to these bodies, and they are forever in torment, dead, but unable to leave. Why? I don't know, perhaps their rage and agony keeps them here, the injustice of it all, as they only sought to defend themselves. Their rage, their sorrow and agony, are crafting the shadows that haunt this place, turning into sluagh, or, if they have enough power to find their way through the abyss to hell, _demons_.

What happens to a soul when it stays too long in the realm of the living, even though it is trapped in the Spectral Realm? They are devoured by wraiths and slugha, never to find the afterlife, or even to be reborn again, and plunged into oblivion. It is a cruel, pointless fate. The soul simply disappears as though it never existed. Well, I know that happens when the slugha take the souls, with the wraiths at least the souls are sent into another life, being reborn anew, and perhaps this time their death will bring them to the afterlife.

The land is bereft of much snow, though light flakes are falling, and for once I welcome the pain of the piercing cold as hot tears fall from my eyes and stain my cheeks with their salty burn. My legs have fallen from beneath me, and I can do no more but stare, and cry. I am over 6 centuries old, and I cannot bear the sight of this massacre, even though I know, I tell myself, I have seen worse, experienced worse.

But this, this is so _pointless_!! So devastating! I can hardly stand to be here, in this time, in this place. And I can't help but begin to wonder exactly why it is that I'm here.

And what it is that ties the souls of these vampires so tightly to the living world that they can't break free, even though they want to leave.

I know he's there as he approaches, more have followed, but he has broken from them, somehow knowing where I am, or perhaps guessing where I would be, and wanting to face me alone.

"I hope you're proud of yourself for this you son of a b(beep)." I murmur, my voice broken with the tears that continue to fall from my eyes.

"They don't deserve your sympathy, Rayne. They were vampires." He tells me, sounding both shocked, and hurt. "They were of the same ilk that killed your fa—"

"NO THEY WEREN'T!!" I shout, standing up and rounding on him, my eyes blazing with anger and sorrow. "_Kain_ kills my father, millions of years from now. I'm from the _future_, godd(beep)it! And in that future we are _dying_!! And it would be so simple, so f(beep)ing _easy_ to blame it all on the vampires, but that's not the case!! In fact the vampires are likely the only reason the entire planet didn't just give up and _die_ before I was able to come here! In order to survive vampires and humans have to work _together_, and if this sort of prejudice and mindless slaughter was at work then we'd be _worse_ of then we were before I left!! Vampirism isn't a plague d(beep)it!! You're just afraid because you don't understand them, and you have a superiority complex that prevents you from allowing beings with greater strength and agility than you to live!!"

"Is _this_ why Moebius has ordered your death?" Raziel asks, and there is true pain in his voice and expression, "This heresy?"

"HERESY!?" I shriek, "Against _who_, Raziel, against _what_!? Your god!? The god that is going to allow Nosgoth to become the barren wasteland that I had to suffer through!? No, Raziel, Moebius wants me dead because I refused to play his pawn and now he perceives me as a threat, and with _good reason_. That's all there is to it. I don't know what he hopes to accomplish this way, he knows enough about my magic to be terrified of what I can do to him, but he doesn't know half of the story. You couldn't defeat me in a friendly spar, Raziel, and I was holding back a lot of my real strength and speed. You can't hope to defeat me in a real fight. You have never encountered anything like me before, so walk away now. I won't kill you, but there is a lot of things I can do, a lot of brutal and cruel things that are non-fatal which I have the power to accomplish. And I will use these powers if I must." I tell him, summoning my implement into my hand, and pointing it straight at him, but he still won't draw his sword.

"Rayne, _please_! This is madness!" He cries, taking a step forward and holding his hands out to me, imploringly. "I don't understand why Lord Moebius would order your death, but if you'll just come back to the fortress with me peacefully, maybe we can sort it out!" He says.

I shake my head and stand my ground, even as he moves within an inch of the implement's tip, "No, Raziel, we can't. I have caught Moebius in one too many lies to trust anything he tells me. And I'm not here to kill Kain, though I would so dearly love to." I say.

"Lord Moebius would not lie!" He exclaims, his eyes blazing.

"He already _has_!" I hiss. "He is _desperate_ for me not to be in this time, there is something here that he does _not_ want me to learn! Why would he hide the truth from me, Raziel? Why would he want to prevent me from learning as much as I can about this era if he truly wanted to help me!? He only respected me because he is _terrified_ of me! He knows enough about my power to fear it, and to fear _me_ for having it! You should too. I should _kill_ you for what you've done here in your so-called 'holy war'!! You're a _murderer_, Raziel!! You—"

I don't see it coming, over 600 years of surviving in a doomed society where betrayal and sudden attack is expected, and I didn't see it coming.

Raziel's dagger pierces my heart, entering that vital muscle and burying itself only an 8th of an inch. The damage is enough that, if I were human, I would most certainly have died without immediate treatment. If I were a vampire, I _might_ have died. If I was merely a Dhampir, it _could_ have killed me. But I am a blood witch, and our healing can cure the impossibly ill, and mend the utterly shattered. We can turn that healing upon our own bodies, thus making us as difficult to kill as vampires sometimes, harder, because piercing the heart doesn't automatically kill us instantly, though it should.

But the attack is so unexpected, so sudden, and the pain so great, I stagger, and fall. Raziel catches me in his arms, taking his dagger out and clutching me tightly to his chest. Kneeling on the frost-covered ground and cradling me, unknowingly, unwisely, holding my head right at his neck. "I'm sorry." He whispers, and I feel hot tears upon my cheek as he shakes. "I'm so sorry…"

"So am I." I murmur, and I sink my fangs into his neck, piercing through the clothing that covers it. He gasps, but he is paralyzed, unable to move, unable to fight. I don't take much, just enough, just enough to help me heal the wound, and not nearly enough to kill him, though it will weaken him slightly.

But more than just his blood enters my body through my fangs. That light, that power neither he nor I can truly use moves into my body, swirling within me, trying desperately to become apart of me. But it cannot, all it can do is be changed into another energy, one that my body can use, and so it does, and it gives me more strength than 5 whole bodies full of blood could have.

I release Raziel, using my telekinetic powers to throw him several feet from me, just in case he brings that dagger back, and I stand up, my implement held tightly in my hand. I'm not so angry at his betrayal, so far as I'm concerned, we are even. He betrays me, I betray him.

His eyes are filled with horror as he watches the leftover blood on my lips sink into my skin, struggling to his feet, a hand on his neck. "No…you, you _can't_ be! It's not possible!! I saw, you—"

"I'm not a vampire, not completely." I say, "I am a Dhampir. Half vampire, half human. I have all the strengths of the vampire race, the ability to use sorcery from either, the ability to shift from one form to another so that not even the most sensitive of magical searching devices can detect my vampire blood, and I have none of the weaknesses. I don't even have to feed on blood, regular human food does just as well." I tell him.

"But…but _how_!? It, it's not possible!" He cries.

"Perhaps not in _this_ time." I say in a way of explanation, just as I sense a dozen or so Sarafan priests and priestesses approaching from behind me. And now I know why they separated. They think they can trap me here. What does Moebius take me for, an apprentice!?

I am now trapped between them and Raziel.

"It's time you learn the reason why Moebius called me a 'Soul Singer'." I tell him, closing my eyes and opening myself up to my blood magic. When my eyes reopen, they have gone black, with burning red pupils to my fiercely violet irises. My hair flies up around me, and I begin to sing to the souls of the dead which surround this place as I draw the shadows that they are creating into my body for strength.

_The autumn in your eyes, the salty dark within your veins__  
We walk the streets at night, a searing spark inside our cage  
Your sight it burns so painful, turn around and burn me painful_

I wave my blood implement in practiced patterns, my body moving in a sort of dance as I do so, and for those souls who only want a release, I cut the ropes that bind them, sending them to the afterlife directly.

"What is she doing!?" Cries one of the priests. Raziel murmurs a prayer to himself as his eyes take in what is happening. For they can see now, clearly, the burning shapes made of light that the vampire's souls exist in, and they watch their release without knowing what it means, what it entails. But not all the souls leave, others have stayed.

_No light can release my pain, not a young god  
__I spit in the eyes of the marching sane, and the young ones  
And the world will turn in vain_

A dozen corpses out of the near 50 that are here struggle and free themselves of the stakes they were trapped upon. Their souls not quite rejoining the bodies, for the corpses must be changed in order to gain the strength they will need against their murderers. Raziel sees this as well and he, like the other preists, is transfixed, with horror, surprise, wonder, or a combination of all three, it's hard to tell, but even as his sword is pointed at me, he has yet to attack.

_The autumn in your smile, don't dare to walk another way  
__And when there's no behind, don't look back, we praise the dawning day  
Your sight it burns so painful, turn around and burn me painful_

"What is this madness!?" The warriors cry, and Raziel's face becomes fearful as he watches the corpses transform into powerful creatures. Their flesh tightening, what is left of their bodies being used to change their original shape. These vampire bodies and souls are not strong enough to truly be powerful, and in any case, they have been dead too long and what little vitality that might have been left in their blood after their death has long gone.

But that doesn't make them any less formidable, or frightening.

_No light can release my pain, not a young god  
__I took to a knife in the back they reign, and the young ones  
And the world will turn in vain_

(A/N: Lyrics from the song called _The Marching Sane_ by Flowing Tears. It's a really good song, I suggest listening to it on YouTube)

And as the change is completed, the souls enter them, and eyes burn with ghostly blue and green lights as the 12 vampires whose souls wished to stay rather than go, eager for a chance to take revenge, come to join me, creating a protective circle around me. For the time being, they look upon me with those glowing eyes with reverence, seeing me as their god. It's an effect that happens often, especially when the souls would have done anything for me to return them to their bodies, even if it's only for a short period of time.

"Take your vengeance," I tell them, "And join your fellows." I say, and I teleport myself away so that the creatures can fight for themselves, without me to steal their vengeance from them.

I watch the battle, hidden above it, until half the Sarafan warriors who came after me die. After that, the souls are no longer able to stay in their new bodies. They have been dead for too long, and do not have enough power left. Their bodies were made too strong for them to keep for long, and, all at once, their bodies crumble into a fertile ash. With a single verse, the bodies left over from those whose souls were already in the afterlife also become ash, no longer recognizable, no longer monuments to the Sarafan's victory.

The warriors will be too concerned about caring for their wounded, and likely too frightened of my power to come after me. So I continue on my way, heading for the white pillars, and keeping my eyes open for more dead vampires along the way.

&

In my time, the ashes of a body, of any body, made by a blood witch rather than fire were valuable for the fertility they could give to the earth, as well as the potency they had in spells and potions. Alone and without the threat of vampire hunters, I free the souls of the vampires and sing their bodies into ashes. I begin a collection of some of these ashes, though I don't yet know what I'm going to use them for, and then I use earth magic to burry the remaining ash into the ground, mixing it up with the dirt so that some good might be reaped from this slaughter. Then, just to be vindictive, I set the stakes that held the bodies up on fire and let them burn to the ground where the snow will prevent the flames from spreading.

I soon arrive at a clearing, in which the base of the nine Pillars, set upon a polished stone surface, and each appears to have a different colored band with a different symbol. The middle bearing a triangular signature that seems somehow…significant, though I can't quite place why or how.

I am inexplicably drawn to these monuments, these pillars, and my hand reaches out to touch the middle one.

There is fire, all around, fire in our veins, fire in our eyes. Our pain is eternal, our rest will never come. Our souls eternally trapped, our hatred never-ending. Nosgoth will fall, Nosgoth will fall, Nosgoth will fall!!

I take back my hand with a gasp and I jump away from the middle pillar. My black glove has been burned away, my flesh is red as though it had been rubbed raw by something. The cool chill of the winter air sooths it, however, and soon enough the burn heals over, but my glove is ruined.

Thankfully I have a spare, and I replace it, but I can't get those voices out of my mind. I consider touching the pillars again, and trying to communicate with them, whatever and whoever they were, but…do I dare?

I consider this option; this is, so far, my best lead besides Janos Audran, even if it _does_ confuse the heck out of me. But when I slip my glove back off in order to preserve it and hesitantly reach out to touch the pillar again, I feel the earth itself slip right out from under my feet, and I suddenly find myself falling.

And not just falling, ooooh noooo, my pathway is curved and convoluted, winding all about so that I am forced to smack up against jagged edges and hard surfaces of the crudely constructed tunnel that just suddenly opened up.

"Ow! Ah! (Beep)! Gah! Oof! (Beep)! Crap! (Beep)! Gah! Owe! Ack! (Beep)! Uh! (Beep)! Ugh! Oof! (Beep)! What! The! (Beep)! Gah! Owe! (Beep)! (Beep)! Gah! (Beep)! (Beep)! AAAAAAAH – OWE!!" I cry, suddenly falling a ways through air and hitting the hard surface beneath, which is blessedly solid and unmoving. "Uuuuuuh." I groan, pealing myself up off the surface, "What, the, crap, was, _that_, for?" I ask no one in particular as I get up and look around the chamber I've found myself in.

There is no sign of the tunnel I'd came from above, but I see two passages from where I am. One, presumably, leads out of this chamber, and the other opens up to a shrine-like structure, and it seems that what I thought to have been the base of the pillars was simply the part of them the outside could see. _This_ is their base, or is it? Do they, in fact, go even deeper? A ring of water surrounds the platform I've found myself upon, and inside it seems…quite warm actually. A blessing, but I'm too confused as to how I got here, or even _why_ I'm here, to pay that much attention to the temperature.

All around me there are murals, but this art isn't like what I had seen in the Sarafan's fortress. It's different, and the depictions are…strange, and alien. In one, there is a war between two races of winged beings. One race possesses blue skin with black angel wings, while the other red flesh and bat-like wings. The two races are at war, the blue skinned side wins and they are depicted creating these pillars, or doing _something_ with them. For what reason, I don't understand, but after that they appear to be writhing in agony. I take a closer look at this painting, and find my hand going to my mouth. The expressions on their faces, the way they are positioned, it's unmistakable. They are afflicted with blood thirst, a pain that most newly created vampires experience constantly, and which will kill if not quenched.

Is this, then, that ancient curse whose scars are responsible for the taint the vampires are perceived to possess? Is this what caused the blood thirst to begin with? Whatever curse was put upon these winged beings after the pillars were created…was it the same curse? Were these, in fact, the ancient vampires, the first generation? They sort of resembled the demonic beings I'd seen in the Sarafan's stained glass. And was that Kain's sword which was being depicted in each mural with such reverence? It had to be, how many swords were made with skulls at the hilt and in a serpentine shape as that? The curve isn't exactly easy to forge, nor entirely practical, though it can be devastating. Are these, in fact, the ones who _created_ the blade, the 'Soul Reaver'? And here I was thinking it was just a really powerful sword from Kain's time, it appears to go back even farther than him.

"Do not put too much faith in these paintings, Rayne." Says a low yet strong voice. I jump to attention and spin around, looking for the source. But I find nothing. "These are only a few of the marks a doomed civilization have left for the sole purpose of attempting to sway history."

"What the—who's there!?" I demand, searching, "Show yourself!" I say, using my inner eye in an attempt to pinpoint their location. _What the—is it…below me?_

"I needn't, you can see me on your own." The voice says, and as I look down into the water over the edge of the platform, I see a monstrosity the likes I've never beheld before. A Kraken, it appears, but with a body that seems immobile, stuck here, as though it were apart of this chamber.

I think I hit my head one too many times on my trip down here…

&  
Ending Notes and Stuff!  
&

Kioko: One of our reviewers commented on the swiftly formed relationship between Rayne and Raziel in the last chapter and I'm sure the few other readers we have are thinking the same thing. Going to explain the _reason_ for that Rhea?

Rhea: Reason? What reason? There is no reason other than base fangirlizm!

Kioko: Fine then, _I'll_ tell them, you see Rayne—(Is suddenly tackled by Rhea)

Rhea: NO DON'T TELL THEM IT'S A SECRET!!

Kioko: Rhea, you have TWO SECONDS to get off me.

Rayne: Hey Rhea! (Holds up shiny golden ball)

Rhea: !.! SHINY!

Rayne: FETCH! (Throws the ball) (Rhea goes chasing after it)

Rhea: NOOO!! COME BACK SHINY!!

Rayne: Now, about this alleged 'reason' for the swift romance? Not that it matters anymore I guess, I mean, seeing as how any relationship with the _human_ Raziel just went down the drain. But still, I'm curious and I'd like to know.

Kioko: I guess it doesn't matter, s'not like the wraith Raziel is going to be as easily duped—er _effected_ as the human.

Rhea: STOP GIVING IT AWAY!! THEY HAVE TO THINK IT'S FANGIRLIZM!!

Rayne: I guess that's a good thing but—(Is suddenly poked in the hip by Kain) EEEEEP!

Kain: YES!! I got my poke!!

Rayne: (Grinds teeth) (Hit's Kain in the face with metal bat)

Kain: (Topples to the ground with another broken tooth) Worth it!

Kioko: Awwww, poor Kain, are you going to pass out now?

Kain: No, why would I—

Kioko: Let me help you with that then! (Sprinkles powder in his face)

Kain: Gah! What the—_thump_ (Out cold)

Kioko: Heheheheh.

Rayne: Does she make a _living_ selling blood on the Witch's Market?

Rhea: Among other things, she usually sells my blood but I got a cold not too long ago and my white blood cell count is still down a bit so it's not exactly 'pure' right now.

Rayne: O.o Dragons get colds?

Rhea: It's kind of scary, I almost burned the house down sneezing…

Kioko: I'll be…_elsewhere_! (disappears)

Kain: (Wakes up) What the hell—Grrrr, where is that witch!?

Rayne: (Evil grin) Hey Kain, I think Kioko has a crush on you!

Kain: 0.0 What!?

Rhea: WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? DO YOU HAVE A _DEATH_ WISH!?

Rayne: Why else do you think she likes having you unconscious?

Kain: Well, I wondered…(Smirks) Heh, so not even witches are immune to my charms, eh?

Rhea: I'm…I'm just, going to go hide under a rock and wait for the cataclysm you just instigated to blow over. R&R!!


	7. The Elder God

A/N: (Does small dance) (realizes people are watching) (Stops and grins nervously while sweating) (Walks away)

&

"Oh my god!" I exclaim, _completely_ loosing what little cool I have left, "A giant, squid, is talking to me, okay Rayne, you can wake up now!! I must have hit my head _wayyyy_ too many times coming down here…" I say to myself, rubbing my temples and trying to regain my sanity.

The voice laughs lightly with some amusement, "You needn't fear me, Rayne, oh yes, I know your name, I know you quite well, and your work pleases me." It says.

"Er…okay, let's assume that I'm _not_ going insane…as frightening a prospect as that is, mind elaborating on that?" I ask.

"Do not be discouraged or fooled by my appearance. I am the Elder God. I am the one Moebius and the Sarafan worship, I am the still center of the turning wheal, the Hub of this world's destiny. I am ever present, here and everywhere, now and always, though, perhaps, not eternally so." He tells me.

"Oh…gods…you're the—that Parasite, the false god that Kain and Moebius were talking about!" I exclaim, my heart suddenly going still in my chest.

"Moebius, my good servant in life, was, or shall be, deceived and confused in his death. You do not understand the situation, Rayne, nor do you truly comprehend the significance of your presence here." He says.

I clench my fists, "Why should I trust you?" I ask him coldly, "Even if Moebius _was_ confused, even if he and Kain were wrong, if you really are the god of Nosgoth, why the _hell_ do you let it fall into such a dismal state!?" I demand.

"Believe it or not, Rayne, the wars that you left behind were the only things keeping Nosgoth alive. What is truly responsible for this world's slow death is something you must learn for yourself if you are to understand your true purpose here and the role you play in Nosgoth's History."

"So you can't tell me yourself?" I ask darkly.

"Would you believe a word I say? Your heart has already been set against me by Kain and Moebius, even though you claim to trust neither of them. Would you, then, take me at my word when you have hastily made the decision to believe _them_ and say that I am the parasite which is robbing this world of its life? I can tell you that this is a false, confused truth, and I can tell you that I am far from being the leech, that I am, instead, the circulatory system of Nosgoth. But are you going to believe me?" He asks.

"Well, I'm not going to swallow everything you throw at me without proof." I answer.

"Then consider the truths that you already know through your training. The harsh pain of birth, death, and rebirth as an endless cycle that spins perpetually on. The grass grows from seeds, fed on the nourishment of the earth, of water, and the sun. Animals come to eat the grass, thus killing it. But when the animals die, their bodies become food for the grass. What would happen, in this picture, if the animals died, but their bodies were unable to return to the earth?" He asks.

"There would be no more grass for the animals to eat, all the animals would die, and you are left with a barren wasteland of death." I answer.

"Exactly, Rayne. Now consider what you have seen of your vampire people of this time. Have you encountered a single body whose soul was able to pass on?" He asks.

"I…no, but—"

"That is because the souls of the vampires of this time are trapped in the living realm. Their souls stagnate in their putrid corpses, unable to nourish this world with their energies, unable to return to the Wheal, or even to pass on to the afterlife. They become a burden and the land must bear thousands of bodies that cannot be disposed of; littering a plane that once flourished and prospered. Your generation of vampires have the benefit of blood witches, Rayne. Blood witches who have, or rather, who _will_, work hard against the curse which binds their souls to their bodies, thus enabling most vampires of your time to pass on and rejoin the Wheal. The vampires of your time _do_ or _will_, harbor the scars of the curse that was bestowed upon them, but the vampires of this time harbor open, bleeding wounds. And those wounds spill onto the ground, infecting Nosgoth itself.

"So you see, Rayne, in this time, in this era, vampires _are_ a plague. But you, with your powers, can change that. You have, in fact, already done considerable good with the souls you have released, but it would, by far, be more beneficial to both Nosgoth and the souls themselves if you sent them on to be reborn rather than have them go directly to the afterlife. At least this way, they have the chance to live a fuller life, don't you agree?"

I have to say that I do agree with him. For a soul whose life has been nothing but hardship and strife, sending them directly to the afterlife might be merciful, but giving them another chance to collect positive energies before they do go, to leave this world as…_more_ than they were…perhaps I _should_ have sent the vampire's souls to be reborn instead of passing them on. "But why must there be such a slaughter!?" I demand suddenly, "Why kill the vampires now when their souls are only going to fester and not let them live to see the day when the blood witches discover how to heal the open wounds and cut the string of whatever curse keeps them in the living world?" I ask.

"Because that day is distant and by the time it comes there will be too many vampires for what few blood witches, or rather, Soul Singers, there are to be able to make any difference. In order for it to work, they must start with few vampires, and thus the curse that binds the soul to the earth is no longer passed on." The Elder God explains.

"And so that justifies this mindless slaughter does it!?" I demand. "This hatred and prejudice!? This war harms the humans just as it harms the vampires even if the destruction isn't as obvious! You are teaching future generations nothing but hatred of a race that they might, one day, be able to live together with in peace and prosperity! If vampires and humans aren't _suppose_ to join, then why is it the most prosperous, the most hopeful and steadfast societies I've ever seen are the ones where humans and vampires willingly work together and ignore their differences when they aren't needed for practical reasons? These are the places people want to live in whether they wish to join the other race or not, these are places where humans protect vampires if they're week, where vampires work to get food for humans that willingly give their blood!

"Maybe I'm wrong, maybe it's true and the vampires of this time really _are_ a burden that needs to be lifted, but no good can come from such direct prejudices that are going to continue on through the generations for one reason or another. Is it _their_ fault they have been cursed!? Why must the vampires suffer for crimes they didn't commit!? Why must they die for a curse that was only put upon them second-hand? It isn't right!!"

"This world isn't ruled by right and wrong, Rayne!!" The Elder God thunders, and I resist the urge to cower or to show the fear that laces itself in my chest. I've faced incredible forces before, and while I can't think of any that might amount to a god's wrath, I'm still not going to relent so easily. "Justice and peace are worthless concepts of the ignorant and naïve and have no true purpose in the grand scheme of the world. If you step outside your moral standing and look upon Nosgoth itself, you will see that it is so. Insisting that something is right or wrong is the confused mistake of those who do not know better. It is unworthy of you, child." He tells me, his voice now calm again, "The sentient beings of Nosgoth, human and vampire alike, must have purpose in order to live proper lives. These souls must grow in life, without purpose, without conflict or strife, there is no growth. War is the only way to promote growth in Nosgoth's future, without it the people of your time would simply fade away into routine lives and the blight upon the land would have destroyed them in less than a century after your birth. The wars force growth and purpose into the people's lives, thus extending Nosgoth's doomed life until you recycle time itself by coming back here with the intention of saving your world." He tells me.

"So, does that mean Kain was right? The wars would have started even without him arising?" I ask, staring up into the faces of the winged beings that writhe with the agony of their thirst.

"Perhaps, but does that excuse him for aggravating the situation more than was needed?" He asks.

"No." I say, my teeth clenched as I feel my hatred for the monster resurfacing inside of me.

The Elder God chuckles, and he sounds pleased for some reason, though I don't know how I feel about that to be honest. "Kain was never meant to live long enough to be alive in your time, and whatever happened in that Kain's past which allowed him an extra long life he didn't deserve, must not be repeated if you wish to make this time's future any better. Kain must be destroyed, Rayne, and Moebius has already told you why. But you are too far into the past for this, which is the reason why I brought you here." He tells me.

"Oh, right, and I'm suppose to trust that _you_ aren't just saying this because you don't want me in this time either?" I ask suspiciously.

"Moebius fears you, child, he fears what you might _do_ in this time if you have no true purpose, what you might, unknowingly, instigate whether your intentions are good or not. You have a great power, and he is one of the few on this earth that is even able to partially appreciate that. He was, however, mistaken in the _manor_ by which you should travel to the future." He explains.

"And you're suggesting…what?" I question.

"Are you not curious as to where Moebius obtained his knowledge in the first place?" Asks the Elder God, almost with an inviting air of someone who's about to tell me something I'm really going to like.

"From you?" I guess, and the Elder God chuckles.

"Hardly. Knowledge of this nature is for man to discover on their own. Learning through trial and error is another part of growth, as you very well know. In order to gain something of worth, it must be earned or the prize is meaningless." He says.

"So are you going to tell me where Moebius gained his knowledge or are you going to make me earn it by going back to the fortress and strangling it out of him?" I ask.

"As amusing as such a proposition sounds, no. Not even Moebius fully understands how he obtained his knowledge, nor does he know who it was that gave it to him. It is time for you to meet one of the first of your kind, Rayne, and I am not referring to your vampire kin, but to the kin of the power and knowledge that makes you greater and more precious to Nosgoth than any human or vampire could ever be. Mychala Vel, the first of the line of which you were apprenticed. She, however, is well hidden, and not even I know where she dwells, but, I imagine, you are blessed with the knowledge of how to find her." He tells me.

It's called shadow-walking, as I mentioned earlier. It's where we pass, bodily, into the other realms of existence. There are two that are frequently walked, the Spectral Realm and the Shadow Realm, which I have mentioned previously as the Window World. This title, I feel, is better descriptive, and while there's a lot of pain involved with passing back and forth from _this_ particular realm, it is the only one that is truly safe. The Spectral Realm sometimes possesses strange, distorted differences from the physical realm that allows for passage where, previously, none had been possible. It is, however, home to creatures such as wraiths and slugha, and even with a physical body one isn't exactly safe from these creatures. When it comes to hiding, the Spectral realm is a good place to go and it's fairly easy to enter and leave, but it's not somewhere you want to stay for overlong periods of time.

Passing into the Window World is…actually fairly simple once you've done it, but it is difficult and only people with a lot of practice and who have gone in and out about 100 times in under a month have the experience needed to achieve it on a simple whim. Due to my master's refusal to listen to me whine and complain about her being a slave driver, I achieved this at a fairly young age and, even though I never used it nearly as often as I probably could have on many occasions, one never really looses the knack of it.

The problem is the dear-god-kill-me-now-and-put-me-out-of-my-misery headaches. Vampire blood is _not_ meant to enter the Window World, and every time I do it I am painfully reminded of _why_ I don't whenever it is possible to get away with it.

Unfortunately, even though the Window World is the most likely place for Mychala Vel to be, and if she _is_ there then tracking her down will be simple, if difficult, it is _not_, by far, the only means of hiding a blood witch is capable of.

I was able to hide myself and my power from Kain and his bazillion spies for over 600 years without having to resort to using the Window World more than once or twice a year when I _really needed_ to. What does _that_ say to you?

"Before you go, however, I would like to bestow on you a gift, if you would accept it." The Elder God says, and now my guard is up as a high part of the wall seems to reach out and take the form and shape of a gigantic tentacle, curled at its smaller tip even as it reaches forward towards me. It uncurls, and from it a bubble forms and gently floats towards me, even as I watch it with a suspicious and wary eye. There's something in the bubble, something small, but I back away as it stops moving at arm's reach.

"Why should I trust you?" I ask, "For all I know whatever that is might turn me into your mindless slave or something." I say, and the Elder God chuckles.

"It pleases me that you think I would have such a power. But you confuse me with a human magic-weaver. The potency of my power is a triangular fold, different and with dissimilar angles and creases. I am the hub of the Wheal of Fate to which all are eternally bound, and _you_, as a blood witch, are the mechanic that keeps the Wheal going fast and fixes it when it slows dangerously. Your awakened powers grant you liberties and rewards that are allowed to no one else. Even if I wanted to control you that way, doing so would be a sin that one such as myself would pay dearly for. No, Rayne, if you don't wish to think of this as a gift, think of it as repayment for releasing the souls of the vampires you freed, and that I am obligated to give it to you." He says as the tentacle draws itself back into the wall, the bubble still hovering, a glint of gold in its center.

"Alright, let's say I believe you this far because I want to and it makes me feel better. What, exactly, _is_ it?" I ask him.

"It is nothing more or less than a sunstone, carved into the shape of a ring. It has been buried deep in the earth for thousands of years in the tomb of the very first blood witch. But, as I understand, it's true value can only be appreciated by the more powerful blood witches who…you're welcome." He says, not bothering to finish as I have, by this time, already swiped the ring and slipped it on the middle finger of my right hand and am now admiring the deep yellow of the precious stone which burns with many colors as even the smallest bit of light catches its depths, though I won't be able to appreciate it's _true_ beauty unless it is hit with direct sunlight and turns white with the shifting colors I only catch glimpses of. The ring is delicate, but indestructible, and has been carved to look like a serpent with the tip of its tail in its mouth. But the stone's beauty, and rarity, is only half of its true value, a value that only blood witches truly appreciate and can take full advantage of.

My hatred of the cold isn't unique to me in the least. All the more powerful blood witches hate the cold with a vengeance, because the chill of our environment effects us no matter how physically warm we can make ourselves through elemental magic. Sunstones? One could say they were _made_ for blood witches, though they existed long before we did, or so I assume. To be honest, I didn't even realize there were blood witches in _this_ time, the thought that our magic is so ancient boggles the mind. Old knowledge rarely survives no matter how hard people try to preserve it, but I suppose I always knew that there was something…unique and special about blood magic, distinguishing it from necromancy though most aspects of necromancy are derived from blood magic only modified so that those without the Gift can use it.

And perhaps Sunstones _were_ made with blood witches in mind, but for whatever reason they were made, for whatever reason they exist, they are the ultimate talisman to a blood witch for a very simple reason; They defend us from the cold.

Touching a sunstone, even touching someone who is touching a sunstone, completely and utterly blocks the negative effects of a cold environment from our bodies _and_ our magic. As I said to Raziel, blood does not flow well in the cold, and blood must flow for my power to truly work. That's why, even though a blood witch's magic extends to aspects that seem to have nothing to do with blood, thus the current term 'Soul Singer' being a better description, that's what it is called, at least in my time. Because this power can only work if our blood is flowing through our veins, the faster, the better. Therefore, the cold can, in effect, rob us of our power.

But not with a sunstone. No chill can so much as trace a finger across our skin with a sunstone, and most sunstones are tiny little chips no larger than a quarter of a newborn baby's fingernail. This one, dear gods, was a whole _ring_! I don't _doubt_ that it belonged to the first ever blood witch, and I probably wouldn't care if there were a thousand and one spells designed to kill me on it, I would have gone through the pain of destroying them for this ring.

I decide that, while I still do not completely trust the Elder God, I will, at least, refrain from making sushi references.

&

While skimpy black leather isn't exactly the most _comfortable_ to run around wearing, it is typically the most practical. Especially since the stuff can be treated with a very simple potion to make it nigh indestructible. Not bullet proof, surely, nor can it really replace good armor, but then, my flesh is stronger than most armor anyway so that doesn't really matter much to me. How else do you think I can get away with wearing a black-leather bra and pants? The thing is the less clothing one wears the more movement they're allowed, though a cat-suit does work, it's just that if you want something strong enough not to get blown to bits the moment you get into trouble, the less you have the stronger it can be. Even men go walking around in scant clothing for this reason, though some of them you would much prefer it if they covered up.

And I _never_ imagined that I'd be able to wear my leather outfit in _this_ kind of weather before now, so I was much enjoying the feeling of the wind on my skin as I emerged from the underground ruins on a different side of the Sarafan stronghold.

Looking back now, I wish I had asked the Elder God more about the pillars, but I figure that was also something I need to learn for myself. He had helped me quite a lot already in giving me a general direction, though messing with time wasn't something I particularly wanted to do. I suppose I was a little late for that, though, wasn't I?

I had left the chamber by way of a door which displayed another of these winged beings. It didn't take much for me to figure out it was the Soul Reaver that unlocked it, after all, if one doesn't particularly want someone to just go unlocking doors, it's best _not_ to make a big elaborate mural showing one _exactly_ what the key looks like.

As general courtesy dictated, I find myself a good spot and, after releasing the lingering souls and turning the vampire bodies to ash, I take a moment to breath deeply, and then I sing out a call, telling Mychala Vel that I am looking for her, and asking her if she would reveal herself to me. I sing it in Hametsu, the ancients' language in which one can speak to the dead, and the language that the ancient blood witches learned as their first when they were born. I sing the song aloud, but unless there's someone close enough to hear me, only Mychala Vel will be able to hear the message, or even be aware that the call exists from such a distance.

This is, probably, one of the reasons why a lot of people distrust and dislike blood witches, because Hametsu is also a language of power. It is possible to enter someone's mind and plant information there like you might copy and paste it from one computer to another by holding their gaze and speaking in Hametsu, unfortunately it is also possible to plant…viruses, diseases, and curses into another individual's body by doing this, even though this is also equally true that blessings can be placed in this way, and it is one of the means by which a blood witch is able to _release_ a curse or drive out the evil spirits which cause sickness and ill health, both physical and mental. I don't like using it too much, mostly because I don't like everyone within hearing distance to know I can speak it because not every blood witch can, it's typically the oldest and most powerful that have been able to learn it through a master, and it can't be used properly by anyone but a fully awakened blood witch.

But, well, sometimes it's too much of a temptation to stare into the eyes of someone and order them to fall asleep, an order that only the strong of mind can defy, so it does have a fairly bad reputation.

At least in Nosgoth's future.

I wait a while, not really expecting a response so soon, and then, just as I am getting ready to pass into the Window World and _then_ start looking for her, I get a response.

She asks me who I am, where I came from, who my teacher was, and what business I have with her. She also wants to know how the hell I can stand the physical world in this gods-forsaken time of the year.

I consider what I should say back, I didn't expect her to reply with a message, though I now know where she is. Still, if I don't respond to her questions, she'll likely think I'm hostile and she'll move from wherever she is and then I'll likely _never_ find her. So I decide to speak the truth.

I give her my name, I tell her that I am from Nosgoth's distant future, I tell her my teacher's name and that she was the apprentice descending from her line, and that I need to learn how to travel through time. I also tell her that traveling to the Window World gives me a splitting headache and that I am skilled in different kinds of magic so I'd rather deal with the cold than the headaches, and that I have recently acquired a sunstone from which only my cold dead corpse will part, so don't even bother asking for it.

She responds by asking me why I have to be so greedy and surely it's big enough she can take a single speck from it and from that she could enlarge the stone by duplicating the molecules around it. She offers to enlarge the leftover stone so that it'd be even bigger than before.

I ask her how that's possible, and tell her that my master never taught me any such thing could be done without dire consequences.

She tells me that's because she never taught it to any of her apprentices because it is too great a power for anyone who does not uncover it for themselves to possess, as are many of the things she knows, which includes the knowledge of time-travel which she has only allowed to one person, and that they were _not_ a blood witch so they were unable to use the power to its fullest potential.

I am about to tell her I know who she's talking about and ask her why the hell she gave that knowledge to _him_, when I suddenly realize that I'm not alone anymore.

Without hesitation I whip around, and from my hand flies a knife propelled straight forward like a bullet with wind magic. It lodges itself into the wall of earth only inches from my stalker's left ear. "_That_, was a warning. The next one _won't_ be. Who are you and why are you sneaking up on me?" I ask the vampire, whose expression is quite priceless actually. Just this blank wide-eyed look of surprise as he looks to see just how close the knife had come to taking off his long ear. He's quite old, by the looks of it, with green skin and cloven hands. He has no hair, instead his head is crowned with horn-like growths and his ears are long and bat-like. In fact, he looks more like a greenish bat with arms and legs than any vampire I've ever seen. Though I have to admit, I probably never laid eyes on a vampire who lived longer than I have before, aside from Kain of course.

"Impressive, I didn't realize the Soul Singers bothered to learn such mundane skills." He says with some contempt.

"I'm unique. Now if you don't mind I—" I pause as Mychala Vel calls out asking me if I was going to respond or if I got caught in some trouble. Not use to having an extended conversation with another blood witch this way, I'm caught out of sorts, unable to separate my attention between her and the vampire. Unfortunately, this costs me, as the vampire seizes this opportunity and I'm suddenly hurtling backward, slamming, quite painfully, into a tree that isn't big or strong enough to stop me, and then hitting a wall of particularly hard earth. I crumble to the ground, deciding to play dead until my broken spine can mend itself properly in my body.

Whoever this guy is, he's a lot more powerful than I expected, much more powerful as a vampire than I could ever be. Fortunately I'm more powerful and more formidable as a blood witch, or a Soul Singer as they are called in this timeline, than I am as a Dhampir.

"One less accursed Soul Singer this world has to deal with." The vampire sneers, and I sense him walking over to my body, probably intent upon feeding off my blood. But now it's _my_ turn to pull a fast one on _him_.

I wait until he bends down, and then I strike.

My vampire form has evolved further thanks to Kain's blood, instead of four fingers, my hands are fully cloven with powerful claws that slice through the older vampire's skin, which might not have been penetrated by my previous claws. My ears have lengthened, and I feel the appearance of a small crown of horns poking up over my hairline. My body is stronger than it once was, and I'm taller too. I am usually taller in my vampire form than my human form, yes, but this time around I feel like I must have grown at least a foot. Thankfully my clothes are enchanted to compensate for the change, though I didn't really have time to banish my combat boots and now they're _completely_ ruined. Oh well, I have extras, and the pieces can be salvaged, though I have to banish them before they get in my way.

The sunstone ring has also adapted to the change, becoming a white mark around the base of my middle claw but otherwise seeming to have become apart of my finger. I didn't know that would happen, but I don't exactly have time to admire it or figure out why it did.

The older vampire, rather than striking me back, teleports a distance from me, and simply stairs at my transformed state. I bear my fangs at him, my eyes darkened, a testament to the mix of my blood magic and Dhampir body. "I _told_ you I was unique." I snarl, producing a claymore from subspace, my weapon of choice for this form as I have the strength and endurance to swing it around as swift and easily as my human body can a regular sword.

Previously the difference between my vampire form and human form was superficial but with a bit of a strength difference, now that doesn't seem to be the case. Kain's blood didn't seem to effect my human body more than a little, in _this _one, however, I feel more powerful than I have ever before.

Though that doesn't mean I'll be able to defeat this older vampire without my human-exclusive advantages.

Fortunately he doesn't seem to want to fight anymore, there is only shock and confusion on his face, "My god," he breathes, "What _are_ you? Vampires cannot be Soul Singers, or is this one of your tricks to make me reluctant to kill you?" He asks.

"I might answer your questions if you'll tell me _why_ you wanted to kill me specifically because I'm a Soul Singer." I say, and his face twists into a hateful glare.

"First tell me this; are you a Soul Singer or a vampire?" He responds, leering suspiciously at me, "I heard you singing in their language, and I know you were human then. But now I can deny neither your appearance nor the scent of your blood. Now, you are a vampire, and an old one at that if your looks are anything to go by. But I have never seen you before, so if you are a vampire, who sired you and how do you know the Soul Singers' language?" He asks.

"I'm not sure how much I should be telling you, I don't even know who you are." I answer.

"I figured you don't, but you'll forgive me if I find this a bit difficult to comprehend. Most of Nosgoth is perfectly aware of who I am, though the majority are less than pleased that I live. But, I suppose I'll humor you. I am Vorador, the first human to be transformed into a vampire by Janos Audran, the last of the original vampire race. But, by the look on your face, you at least know _him_." He tells me.

Good gods, no _wonder_!

"Janos Audran? _You_ were sired by _him_? Good gods, no wonder you're strong! Where can I find him?" I ask, breathless with shock and surprised by my luck.

"And what would you do if I told you that?" Vorador asks, bearing his teeth at me in an obviously hostile manner, "He trusted your great Matron Mychala Vel in the past and she betrayed us all by granting Moebius and Mortanius knowledge they should never have possessed. And now it is thanks to her that the vampire race is being slaughtered. I see you didn't know this either. Just who are you, what are you, where did you come from, and _why_ are you here?" He questions me.

"I…I knew Mychala Vel gave Moebius the knowledge of how to travel through time, but why…" And then, suddenly, I know _exactly_ why, "Because the fewer vampires there are the easier it will be for future blood witches to cure the curse that binds their souls to their bodies long after death." I say, almost forgetting that Vorador is still here. "And _that's_ how…oh my god! I have to talk to her!!" I cry, turning and leaping into the air, using wind magic to propel me high above the clearing that Vorador had found me.

"_What_!?Wait a moment! You—" But I don't hear the rest of his sentence. So he can't follow me, I have passed on into the spectral realm. Not exactly as easy or as safe to transverse as the Window World, but at least it doesn't give me a splitting headache when I go in and come out.

And in any case, I'm going to be moving too fast for either wraiths or slugha to so much as realize _what_ it was that just hit them.

&  
Ending Notes and Stuff!  
&

Rhea: The plot thickens!! MUAHAHAHAHAHA!! By the way, I don't like the Elder God either, so here you go! (Gives Rayne a harpoon)

Rayne: (Large evil grin) THANKS!! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!! (Goes after the tentacle that is currently representing the Elder God)

Elder God: Woa-wha-wait! Can't we talk about this!? I gave you the sunstone after-(_stab_)AUGH! (splurt!) GHA! (Squish) OOF!!

Kioko: Hey, here's an idea, why don't we open up a sushi bar?

Elder God: !.! (Whimper)

Kioko: Heheheh.

Kain: Oh Kioko!

Kioko: 0.o Uh, oh what?

Rhea: (Oh crap!) (Hides)

Kain: Do you like roses? (Holds up bouquet)

Kioko: (Stares at them, then at him)

Kain: (Grins confidently)

Kioko: Kain, is this a romantic gesture? Because if it is I'm going to set those flowers on fire and use their ashes to poison you.

Kain: Now now, sweetheart, no need to be shy. I know you can't resist me!

Rayne: _Oh god what have I done?_

Elder God: Do you want me to answer that or is this one of those rhetorical questions?

Rayne: (Stabs the tentacle several more times)

Kioko: Yes I can, Kain, I can resist any and all charms of the male race.

Kain: Well if it's not my charm then it must be my _body_.

Kioko: Okay that's it. (Grabs metal bat and swings Kain into the wall) We need a medic in here? Kain's gone mental!!

Rhea: I'll go look in the phone book! (Runs away)

Rayne: You know, smacking him around like that probably isn't going to help whatever mental stability he _has_.

Kioko: Ask me if I care. R&R, or don't, only Rhea seems to really care.


	8. Soul Singer

A/N: I just wanna have fun! (Sniff!) (Starts playing Blood Omen 2) Heheheheh, DIE PUNY MORTALS MUAHAHAHAHAHA!!

&

Far north of the white monuments I pass by a few human settlements that all seem to stay behind a certain line, mostly west of the pillars, and are protected with fortifications designed specifically to defend against your average vampire. Using running water and mirrors designed to reflect any amount of sun that happens to peek out from the sky to shine down in different ways at any time of the day. The spikes seem a bit overkill, but I suppose if you want to keep yourself safe you'll do whatever you think will help.

Though people in the physical and spectral realms are visible in the Window World, and can, in fact, be _heard_, that's not the case when it comes to being in the Spectral realm. I have to use my inner eye to see the physical world, but as I really don't see the point in this due to my current goal of not being followed or seen, I just deal with the wraiths and slugha that are unlucky enough to cross my path.

Mychala calls to me again as I leave one of these cities, and I find myself a clear area where I'm able to respond. I explain to her that I nearly got scalped by Vorador and that's why I didn't respond.

She sounds amused when she responds to this and asks me how he reacted when he found out I was a Dhampir…

NOW HOW THE HELL DOES _SHE_ KNOW THAT WHEN EVERYONE ELSE IS WALLOWING IN CONFUSION AND SHE HASN'T EVEN _SEEN_ ME YET!?

I tell her, with much irritation and a bit of frustration, that I would really like to continue this conversation face-to-face, and she responds with assent. I hear barely-controlled laughter in her song too.

&

Mychala lives in a mountain range, her dwelling is very well-hidden and only accessible through the Spectral Realm, but even here there are wards that prevent anyone and anything but a blood witch from being able to pass through, and when I arrive inside the empty dwelling I pass back into the physical world and wait a moment, hopeful, but knowing that Mychala Vel is _not_ going to return to the physical world, which is _freezing_ even inside this mountain, just because I don't want to deal with the headache of passing into the Window World. I groan, slumping, and take a deep breath.

"_Owwwwwwe_." I moan, clutching my head, and listening to an old woman's cackling laughter. "/I know the Window World is always a comfortable temperature, making it perpetually warm and cozy for blood witches, but for me the headaches are such a b(beep)! It's just not worth it!\" I confess to her, speaking in Hametsu just in case she doesn't speak English. Eyes watering, I peer at her through the haze of my migraine, and I wish I didn't have to suffer so much just to meet her. Otherwise this might be the greatest moment of my life.

Mychala Vel has aged gracefully, I think. She is by no means young, but her skin is smooth without many wrinkles even though her flesh is hallow, making it appear as though she's simply fairly malnourished instead of old. Her hair is long and white, streaked with silver, but it appears soft and thick, as though that's its original color rather than what it's changed into due to a loss of pigmentation. Her teeth are even, white, and whole, and she's a good height, even though she slumps over and leans on a walking stick, though I can't imagine _why_. Likely it's only to make her appear more like an old woman because the rest of her isn't much of a testament to her age. Her eyes, which are focused on me, are fully black, however, and they possess no pupils or irises, but wide rings of light that look like solar eclipses. The light fluctuates, and I find myself staring at them, practically hypnotized by the sight.

Mychala Vel grins at me, and then she straightens her back with a loud _crack_, as though she's putting something back into place after having taken it out for whatever reason, and she sets her walking stick aside. "I've been waiting a while for you, Rayne. But, I expect, you already realized this when I revealed that I knew what you were." She says, speaking in English, though her accent is thick enough to attest to all the years she's spent speaking in Hametsu.

"Yyyyyeah," I say, shaking my head to wrestle myself from the daze I had found myself in, and regretting it immediately. "Mother of _god_ whyyyyyy!?" I practically sob, and Mychala Vel laughs again.

"Because the, what was it you called it? The 'Window World' is not meant for vampires, but I guess you already know this and either can't figure out how to fix it, or haven't thought to try." She says.

"Both, actually. But in the timeframe that I'm from, resources are severely limited, and it isn't as though it's a problem that's been addressed before." I respond.

"The price of being so wonderfully and terribly unique as a Soul Singer, or blood witch, as you call it, with vampire blood in their veins." She says, striding across the room that, while it was completely bare and bore no signs of human habitation whatsoever in the physical world, is, in this window world, furnished with many things, and done so quite comfortably. She leads me into another room, which is obviously her laboratory, and takes bottles and glasses of materials from shelves. She then walks over to a work desk, and then turns around, holding an instrument that is shaped like a scalpel, but with a hallow glass handle designed to hold blood sucked from the tip of the thin knife. "Give me your blood." She tells me.

"Uh, what?" I ask, taking a step back from her.

"I'm going to fix your headache problem, but to do that I need to figure out the hows and whys of your condition. Of course I'll be keeping some of it for myself to study, you can't expect me not to, but if it means you'll be able to go in and out of the shadow realm without getting those headaches, I'd call that a fair trade, wouldn't you?" She asks, grinning widely and holding out the scalpel expectantly. For some reason, I'm not quite sure why, I reach out and prick my finger obediently on the scalpel, and wonder what all she's going to be doing with the blood she doesn't use right now. But I guess I don't care, if she really _can_ cure my headaches, I'll give her all the blood she _wants_.

She grins at me as the scalpel is filled up, and then takes the blade back so that the prick on my finger can heal over. "Good girl." She says, turning to her instruments, several of which I recognize from knowing their future counterparts, and marveling at how advanced they are for this time period.

"Ummm…I have, so many questions and I don't know _where_ to start." I say as she gets to work, looking as though she hasn't had this much fun in centuries. I have to wonder if she's really doing this to cure my headaches or if she's doing this because of the challenge that doing so has presented due to my uniqueness.

"Start by asking me how I knew you were coming and what you are." She tells me cheerfully.

"Uh, okay then, how, and why?" I say, and she chuckles.

"I knew you were coming because I knew _when_ you would be coming and that in order to get on the right track you would need my help." She answers, viewing a drop of my blood through a special lens and waving a small, almost needle-sized wand over it, humming after this statement, and then continuing, "As for how I knew what you are, well, the fact is that you are _always_ a Dhampir, aren't you? But no one is quite sure _why_ that is." She says.

"Wait, so you're _aware_ that Nosgoth keeps repeating the same loop of time over and over again?" I ask her.

"Of course I am, I'm the one that instigated the loop after all." She answers pleasantly, and all I can do is stare, and gape.

"Wha—_how_?" I ask her, dumbstruck.

"Shouldn't you be asking _why_ instead of _how_?" She questions with a raised eyebrow in my direction, even as she begins smearing a salve over a glass surface with her finger.

"Er…I, guess…."

"Unfortunately, not even I fully understand the true reason for the loop. I suppose Nosgoth itself is trying to un-write it's own death, and the time-loop is its way of surviving until that can be accomplished. Perhaps something must be done and only a Dhampir can accomplish it, but as there's no way for a Dhampir to exist in Nosgoth's past, which is when that something must be accomplished, you must be taken from the future and brought back. But what this something is, I don't know, nor do I think I am suppose to know. That is for _you_ to find out, no matter how many tries it takes. Unfortunately, Moebius and I share the same condition, though in different ways. He does not remember the past loops until centuries after his death when it is far too late, while I am only partially aware that they exist, but know too little about them to be able to tell you which direction to go in." She tells me.

"Great…" I sigh, "Okay, next question, and this probably isn't quite as important as the one I _should_ be asking but I can't help it; why did you give Moebius and whoever that other guy Vorador told me about was the powers they needed to go slaughtering the vampires?" I ask her.

"For several reasons, one of which you already know, I suspect." She answers, eyeing me beadily, and I sigh, nodding grudgingly.

"And the others?"

"Someone had to learn how to travel through time that was neither a vampire nor a Soul Singer, and that someone also had to _use_ this knowledge. How they used it didn't matter, so long as they _did_." She answers.

"But why?" I ask.

"So that the time-streaming devices would be built." She answers.

"And, why did they have to be built?" I ask her.

"So that _you_ would find one and travel back in time to save Nosgoth from whatever bleak future you had to suffer through, thus creating the loop we seem to be stuck in." She answers, "Moebius is a power-hungry fool who believes himself to be but a single step below a god, but that's exactly what was needed. If he were anything less he might have chosen a more intelligent and well-considered course of action and simply avoided the whole time-traveling deal altogether." She answers.

"So, so why couldn't _you_ have built the time-streaming chambers?" I ask her.

"Because they need to be _used_, Rayne. If I had built the time-streaming chambers I wouldn't have told anyone what they did or how to use them, I wouldn't have used them myself, of course, and they would simply sit there, rusting and dying from life that they never had in the first place. The more they were used, the better, and the easier it would be for _you_ to get back _here_." She answers. "But Moebius would use them for very selfish reasons, well-calculated and precise, but selfish all the same, and he has. He altered history in order to instigate a genocidal war against the vampire race even _after_ they stole the pillars for the human race." She tells me.

My jaw drops, "Wait a moment, so this isn't _just_ a religious war!?" I exclaim.

"Oh no. Well, perhaps it is _now_, but in the future there will be another attempt to eradicate the vampires, and this one solely orchestrated by Moebius. King William the Just will be killed by Kain who goes back in time to prevent William from becoming the Nemesis that ravages the land. So, rather than becoming the tyrant he might have been, he is martyred by Kain, a vampire, and Moebius uses this to launch that second war, rising to power in William's place with his talk of the plague that the vampire's represent." She answers.

I feel my eyes lowering, "_Are_ they a plague?" I ask in a low voice.

"They are…a burden to Nosgoth at this time, but no, they aren't a plague, they have been cursed, and it is _that_ curse which has effected them with immortality, forcing their souls to linger near their bodies even when those bodies have died. It is this curse, also, which makes them infertile and turns their bodies from regular food to blood. I am…ashamed, to tell you that it was Klossa Vel, my own sister, that crafted this curse and gave it to the Hyldan so that it could be used to its fullest potency." She tells me.

"_What_!?" I hiss, my eyes bulging with shock as I stare at Mychala Vel's saddened expression.

"Soul Singers, or blood witches, possess a very…unique roll in the turning of the Wheal of Fate, and we are gifted with powers that are often seen as purely destructive, and which can be just that. We are…vital to the Wheal, and so when we err, the Wheal neither stops us, nor does it punish us. I don't know that it has the ability, to be honest, and while this seems like one of the…perks of being a Soul Singer, it is a perk that can too easily be abused to be worth possessing. I don't know why we are able to take such liberties without getting our hands smacked by whatever higher being exists out there, but because we can, we are responsible for setting our own straight. And so when the vampires defeated the Hyldan and imprisoned them for eternity, I sent my sister to join them.

"She sympathized with the Hyldan, and perhaps, in a way, she had good reason. But that could never excuse the crime she committed when she gave the Hyldan the power to cast such a curse upon the vampire race. For a long time I've been trying to counter-act the curse, but so far all I have been able to do is give the vampires the power to continue their race by taking humans and making them their own." She explains.

"So, so these Hyldan, are they the bat-like creatures I saw fighting the winged beings in those murals I saw in that chamber beneath the pillars?" I ask her, and Mychala Vel nods. "And the Pillars, what are they?" I ask her.

"They are the lock that keep the Hyldan in their prison. It is a necessary evil, I am afraid, for while the Hyldan were not evil in the beginning, that is what they have become. It is the Hyldan who destroy Nosgoth, they are the infection that will one day be unleashed upon this world, plunging it into a slow death. When the pillars are destroyed, and I'm afraid they must be, for nothing in this world is meant to be eternal, the Hyldan will rise to ravage the land. Unfortunately, with the circumstances rigged the way they will be in the future, the saving of the pillars will involve the death of the vampire race, and while very few realize it, or understand why, the vampire race is _crucial_ to the survival of Nosgoth. So one way or another, Nosgoth dies, slowly and painfully. But so long as the vampires live, there is still hope. So long as _you_ can be born to return to this time, there must still be a way to save Nosgoth, and _stop_ the Hyldan. I just wish I knew what that was." She tells me morosely.

"So, no pressure, huh?" I say, and a grin cracks her face. She laughs heartily.

"That's the ticket! A good sense of humor is what everyone needs to keep their heads on their shoulders. Now, why don't you take a sip of this potion I've got for you, and let's see if it cures your headache problem?" She says, holding out a glass veil with emerald green liquid that alternately steams and bubbles off the top. "Just a small sip, mind, if it works you can drink the whole thing to permeate the effect." She says, and I take a small sip of the sweet-smelling liquid. It's shockingly cold in spite of the bubbling, but when the little I took hits my belly it explodes like a barrel of fireworks.

"Whoa! What a _trip_!" I gasp, giving Mychala Vel the potion back before I drop it.

So I pass from the Window World into the physical world, and for a moment I dare to hope it has worked, but no. The headache returns, but, at the very least, it's mild enough that my eyes aren't crossing against my will, and I can bear to pass back into the Window World even though going back and forth so soon is close to suicide for me. "Nope, not gone, but better." I tell her when I return, "_Much_ better, actually, I usually can't go back and forth like that without passing out." I confess.

"Excellent!" She whoops, "I didn't think that would work completely, but progress _has_ been made! Any more questions?" She asks, returning to her instruments.

"Um…Yeah, I know you gave Moebius the time-streaming knowledge and why, but what about that other guy, Mortimus?" I ask.

"Mortanius." She corrects, "And he's become the first necromancer in case you were wondering." She tells me, and I find my mouth falling open.

"_Whyyyyy_?" I ask.

"So that he would have the ability to raise Kain from the dead as a vampire using the Heart of Darkness, but I'm getting ahead of myself." She says, "That's a story you'll want to learn for yourself."

"I'd still like to know why the hell Kain has to be alive at all." I mutter darkly.

"He's the Scion of Balance, Rayne, he plays a very key roll in all of this…why, do you _know_ Kain?" She asks me, her eyes wide.

I just smile at her, "Yes, I do, from the future, and I _loathe_ him so much that the thought of rearranging his internal organs, while he's still alive, is incredibly tempting." I answer with a sweetly disturbing tone of voice that, if anything, only increases the amount of hatred and loathing I want to convey to her. "I'm just trying not to blame this past Kain for the crimes of the future Kain, but it is _extremely_ difficult, especially knowing that those are things he _would_, and _will_ do if I let him live that long this time around, which I don't intend to. You said so yourself, nothing in this world is meant to last eternity, and that includes _him_!" I tell her with a twitching of my eye.

"Er…you hate him." She says, as though hoping to clarify something.

"Yes, very much so." I answer, still bright and disturbingly cheerful.

Mychala Vel just looks at me for a moment, and then she turns, "Oh…that's not good." She says, and I stare at her retreating back suspiciously as she grabs a jar that appears to be full of beady black eyes.

"Um, _why_?" I ask her.

"Because I'm reasonably certain you're suppose to fall in love with him." She answers.

The sound of shattering glass that only I could hear might testify to the snap-shatter of my entire world after hearing those words come out of Mychala Vel's mouth.

Oh _heeeeeeeeell_ no!

"OVER MY DEAD AND MANGLED CORPSE!!"

"Very well, very well, but at the very least please refrain from _killing_ him, won't you? That's someone else's job I think." She tells me.

"Can I at least shoot him a few times?" I ask, pulling a gun from subspace.

Mychala Vel looks at me and sighs heavily, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "This is going to cause problems. Listen, Rayne, if you're going to learn everything you need to know, and then do whatever it is you need to do, Kain can_not_ be your enemy. He is, perhaps, one of the greatest keys to this entire ordeal, and while you don't have to like, or even love, him to be his ally, overt animosity might not put you in his good graces." She tells me.

"I don't _want_ to be in his good graces!! I want him to glare at me and make an attempt on my life just so I have an excuse to smack him around and reorganize his rib-cage just to watch him writhe in agony for a while! I _hate_ him! And if I'm going to have to work with him I'd prefer the feeling be mutual!" I say.

"_He_ might not want to work with _you_ if that's the case." She says.

"Who says I have to give him a choice in the matter?" I ask, raising an eyebrow, "Who do you think would win in a scuffle, a half-vampire half-blood witch with over 6 centuries of survival skills under her belt, or a Kain that's far younger than what I had to deal with before coming here!?" I question.

"A vampire is no match for a Soul Singer of any sort, not when all we have to do is take their precious blood and watch them die. But in a scuffle where your aim isn't to kill but weaken, you might have trouble." She says.

"Yeah, well, whatever!" I huff irritably.

"Alright try this one." She says, handing me a veil, this one had dark blue liquid inside of it with silvery steam emitting from the top and swirling around like incense smoke.

I take a small sip and hand it back to her. The chill branches out all over my body, causing me to shiver until the liquid hits my stomach. This time, however, it's a very smooth, calming warmth that spreads throughout my body as the potion reacts with my stomach acids. I pass from the Window World into the physical realm, and I wait for any sign of pain coming from my head. It does not, instead the pain is in my stomach, and I experience a sense of vertigo for a few seconds as I resist the urge to vomit. After a moment, everything seems to settle back into place, and I'm able to return to the Window World, repeating the experience.

"But you're head isn't hurting?" She asks me.

"Well, no, but—"

"Then, technically, this is a success, but I'll work on getting rid of the nausea too." She says. "Now, in order for you to swiftly obtain the knowledge of time-travel, I'm going to have to send you forward some 500 years into the future. Ironically enough, this will actually be the time that you'll need to go for several reasons, but sending you through time my way will allow your body the internal knowledge of the process itself, but there is a certain ritual that'll need to be performed afterward in order to give your body the ability to pass through time the way you must." She tells me, and my head shoots up, my eyes wide.

"The Cardikamon?!" I exclaim, and she grins, nodding.

"I'm surprised you haven't tried performing it already." She says with a small frown.

"My master didn't know how. As powerful and old as she was, she neither learned it nor performed it. She told me that the knowledge had likely been lost for centuries, and if anyone knew how to do it anymore, they either swore to take the secret to the grave, or passed it on and never used it." I answer. "Isn't it suppose to decrease the limitations of the flesh?" I ask her.

"That's exactly what it does. It makes the body more malleable, less of an obstacle. It's typically used to give one the ability to transform their physical bodies into different forms, like animals. My sister once transformed herself into a purely liquid state, thinking it would make her practically invincible. She regretted it, and told me never, never, _never_ to try it myself." Mychala Vel makes a face, "I should have listened to her, but I suppose sometimes the best way to learn one's lessons is first-hand." She says, and I can't help but laugh. "But while the shapechanging ability will be useful to you, the true reason you'll be performing it is so your body can shift through time without needing outside help rather than through shapes." She tells me. "What's more, I can make the paint now and it'll have 500 years to gain potency!" She says.

"500 years?! How do you know you'll be alive until then?" I ask her.

"I've gone for this long without being detected, whose to say I can't go on longer? Not even the Elder God sees us in the shadow realm, you know." She tells me, looking _quite_ pleased at this.

"Er…about the Elder God, who, or _what_ is he aside from a gigantic squid?" I ask, "And…can I trust him?"

Mychala Vel bites her lip, but the look on her face is not sever or hesitant, it is the look of someone trying desperately not to laugh, "Gigantic, squid…oh my, if Moebius only knew." And then she let out a long cackling laugh, throwing her head back, "I had my suspicions but I could never see him all that clearly myself! Ha!" She snorts.

"Yeah, mind answering _my_ question?" I ask.

"Oh, right. Well, the Elder God is basically the engine of life to which all souls must return after death in order to be recycled. He's the hub of the Wheal of Fate, while the souls that are pulled through like a chain are the power, the spinner of that Wheal. It's an endless chain in which new souls join as links and old souls are looped back around in rebirth. The longer the chain, the more power the wheal has to turn. Souls are spun in through birth, and spun out through death while new souls are added and old souls sometimes become stuck within the Wheal, rusting and corroding parts of the Wheal, making it more difficult to turn." She explains.

"The vampires." I say flatly, and she nods.

"Not just vampires, at times, though at the moment the curse forces them to become perpetually rusting links on the chain. No, sometimes human souls will linger as well, unable to pass on. We, as Soul Singers, are the maintainers of the Wheal of Fate. We release the souls back to the Wheal and scrape off the rust. The wraiths of the spectral realm do a similar job, but…" Mychala wriggles her nose, "Not a particularly clean one. They'll never be able to replace Soul Singers, but at the same time, we aren't invincible. We are human, and while we are difficult to kill, we can still die out, and there's always the chance that we might not continue to exist. Though I'm glad to know that we _do_, even in Nosgoth's distant and doomed future." She says.

"So are the blood witches—Soul Singers, as vital to Nosgoth as the vampires?" I ask her, and Mychala Vel gives me a wry smile.

"We are vital to the Wheal of Fate, Rayne." She tells me, "And on and on it spins, harshly sometimes, yet always spinning. The cycle of death, birth, and rebirth is the circulatory system of the Wheal of Fate, just like the blood in our veins passes oxygen and nutrients all around our bodies, keeping it going on and on until the day we die." She says.

"And, what of those souls who pass on to the afterlife?" I ask her, and Mychala Vel purses her lips.

"Souls which break free from the Wheal, which go on to the other side, to whatever awaits us beyond death, they are like lacerations to the Wheal, allowing some precious blood out of the body. But, of course, more blood is made with the marrow of our bones to replace it. Thus the cycle will continue even though souls pass on to the afterlife." She answers.

"But isn't that what they're suppose to do? Isn't that the grand finale, the inevitable conclusion to our lives? Isn't that where we are meant to go, where we are _suppose_ to go, after we die?" I ask her.

She doesn't answer me immediately, instead her focus is upon the potion she is still brewing in order to free me of my illness when I pass from this world into the physical world and back, and I find myself confused when she sets her instruments down for a moment, sighs, and looks up. "Blood spilled from the wheal falls upon the earth. The energies of those human souls are soaked up by the land itself, though the Wheal does its own job of nourishing the land. To truly pass into the afterlife, nothing physical or worldly substantial must still exist of you. A soul that exists, even in the spectral realm, must have substance. It is a certain kind of energy, but our spirit, our consciousness, our egos, those are nothing but ourselves, our true selves, and they have no basis in this existence without substance. That is what passes on to the afterlife." She tells me.

"So, is it better or worse for a soul to be sent directly to the afterlife or sent to be reborn again?" I ask her, trying to make sense of what it is she's trying to tell me.

Mychala Vel's ecliptic gaze bores intensely into my own eyes, and she says, "One way is better for the Wheal, the other, for Nosgoth itself."

&  
Ending Notes and Stuff!  
&

Rayne: Huh, I always wondered where Moebius learned time-travel. I guess one automatically assumes he simply gathered that knowledge through osmosis and being the Time Guardian.

Elder God: Maybe in some stories, but remember what I said about having to learn things on your own to grow in the previous chapter?

Rayne: No I wasn't listening. WHO TOLD YOU YOU COULD GET OUT!? Back in the closet with you!! (Jabs at the Elder God with harpoon)

Elder God: AUGH! (Sob)

Kain: Hang on a second, if this Mychala Vel person is ancient enough to have actually been there when the Pillars were crafted…HAHA! That means she's older than me and thus I'm _not_ the oldest geezer on the block anymore!!

Mychala: Congratulations Kain.

Kain: You know, those eyes of yours are kind of creepy…

Mychala: I'd tell you how I got them, but I'm afraid that'd be a bit of a spoiler for future chapters.

Kain: Right, does anyone know where Kioko is? Or…Rhea for that matter? Neither of them seem to be here.

Rayne: Well Rhea's trying to find a job, which is kind of hard because not too many companies will higher dragons these days, and Kioko's trying to find a psychologist that specializes in vampires.

Kain: Um, _why_?

Rayne: Apparently you were so out of character in the last ending note that she thinks you need help. Next time, instead of flowers, offer to help her conquer a country or something, or maybe a sparsely populated world.

Kain: Wait a moment, I thought _you_ said she had a crush on _me_. Why should I have to exert the effort of displaying romantic interests when _she_ should be coming on to _me_?

Rayne: Kain, she's a witch.

Kain:…And?

Rayne: And what? She's a witch, that should be self-explanatory.

Kain: Oh, right, of course she is! Haha! (Runs off to do…something, don't know what)

Mychala: Yep, he's seriously out of character in these ending notes.

Rayne: You want him to be _in_ character? Fine, you do that, and in the mean time I'm going to go get my gun back from Kioko.

Mychala: Point. (To Readers) Well my lovelies, I believe it's now time to review.

Rayne: _Why_?

Mychala: Because the authoress devours reviews and grows stronger. In other words, she likes them.

Rayne:…_So_?

Mychala: Well, can't argue with that logic!

Rhea: (That's the third time we've done that joke…)


	9. At the Pillars

A/N: Sorry I didn't stick to my typical update of every two days, I just reloaded my operating system and am still getting everything set back up the way I want it. I've also been working on other stuff with the time I have outside work, and I'm hoping to get another job pretty soon and I have no idea what my hours would be like then. So it may be another three days before my next update. Sorry!

Also, I've been co-writing Vickie1's "Legacy of Kain: Deliverance". Well, it's her story, I've just been helping out! XD. SO GO READ IT!! WE WORKED VERY HARD ON THAT FIRST CHAPTER IT WENT BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN US SOMEWHERE AROUND 5 OR 6 TIMES SO R&R THAT FIC EVEN IF YOU DON'T R&R THIS ONE!! THANK YOU AND REMEMBER: THE CAPS-LOCK BUTTON IS OUR FRIEND!!

&

Mychala Vel's third batch of potion works like a charm. I now feel nothing but the slight shifting distortion of vision that even the most powerful blood witches still experience passing through any of the realms, and I drink the entire potion which will last me, she says, until I have performed the Cardikamon, and then it won't matter because my body will automatically adapt to anything I put it through. Thus, I won't even have the distorted vision problem.

The success has made her quite cheerful and, I suspect, more animated than she's been in a long time, and she starts chatting away happily as the two of us work together in order to make the body paint for the Cardikamon. I let her talk, sometimes asking her to go through the steps of making the paint again so I can better commit it to memory as I'm making it. Such knowledge is practically lost in Nosgoth's future, but the Cardikamon was still a legend, even among the less potent of blood witches whose powers never fully awaken, staying as apprentices all their lives.

After the paint has been made, she stores it away, sealing the large batch we've made into a stone box and having me burry it deep into the earth in the physical realm so that it will bear the full impact of the passing time. Things age far more slowly in the Window World after all, though that's not the only reason Mychala Vel doesn't seem as old as she should. Apparently the elasticity of the Cardikamon's purpose makes one's body immune to the true effects of age, and the only reason Mychala Vel _looks_ old, is because she likes to due to the allowances being aged gives her.

And because people are more likely to differ to an old woman rather than a young one.

Even though her location is remote, hidden, and quite secret, she still has the occasional Soul Singer/blood witch visit for one reason or another. She _is_, after all, the Matron of this time. Which is, basically, the Queen Soul Singer.

I listen intently as Mychala Vel talks about her past, telling me stories that range anywhere from her childhood to her adolescent years. She recounts, fondly, the many strong and handsome men which sought her hand in marriage, and the few she actually _did_ marry. As she didn't age after the Cardikamon, she went through about 5 husbands, all of which got old and died on her in spite of her love for them, before she wised up and realized love wasn't worth this.

It is when she decides to impart on me the tale of her dalliances with the ancient vampire Janos Audran that I decide I have heard enough and I do _not_ want to hear any more. Sure blood witches and vampires stereotypically get along quite well, but realizing _that_ happened in this distant past is a bit much. So I pretend to have fallen asleep in the comfy armchair. Unfortunately she pretends not to notice this, and continues on until I 'wake up' and tell her plainly that I do _not_ want to listen to how Janos Audran wrapped great black wings around her and whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

Unfortunately blood witches can be just as randy as men, the blessed difference is that we wait for a connection with another person, we commit to a relationship, and _then_ our sex drive comes out in full force. Because it is a powerful act of bonding, and without love it is a violation of the flesh. But _with_ love it is a wonderful thing, and for a blood witch there is simply no desire without love. For us, lust comes _after_ love, and I guess some people might consider it a curse, but most blood witches are more than content with the way our minds and bodies alter, especially when the price for a loveless lay is so steep for us.

_I'm_ certainly happy for this arrangement. This doesn't mean I can't appreciate a handsome male, but at least I'm not wired the right way to get distracted by a pair of gorgeous blue eyes.

I suppose I can't really blame Mychala, though. The way she talks about him so lustily indicates that she still loves him, a lot. It must be painful for her, must have been very painful when she committed that act against him, making it appear as though she had betrayed him and his kind to humanity, when the true reasons behind her actions were far more monumental than that, and had to be taken whatever the cost.

I sleep on her couch when both of us run out of words and energy. In my sleep Mychala grants me a dream of the ritual I will be performing when she sends me to the future. In this dream I perform the dance required of me, and I sing a song unique to me as I dance. It is a dark, sad song with dream-like lyrics, and the markings painted upon my body become lacerations that will leave scars that will never fade, but which will only become visible when I open myself directly to my power and my eyes darken as they always do.

Over and over I dance in my dream, over and over singing the sad song, and over and over I watch as blood spills from the painted markings to splatter upon the ground. My blood soaks into the earth, and the earth rewards my sacrifice with the completion of the Cardikamon, where the wounds heal over, and the scars take on a color that will also be unique to me. Perhaps there will be many colors, perhaps only one, and perhaps the colors will change periodically, but they will be scars that mark me as a being of the highest of blood witches, or, in this day and age, a Master Soul Singer.

What is more, throughout the dream Mychala imparts on me more and more of the knowledge of time-travel through use of Hametsu. Teaching my mind while sending me through time herself will teach my body. I learn, soaking up the information like a sponge, and I understand.

When I awake, the dance and the song has been burned into my memory and it will never leave me. Mychala tells me to get ready, but before I go…she demands a shard of my sunstone.

I whimper, "Will you be able to make it look exactly as it did before?" I ask her, grudgingly removing my ring and holding it out to her with trembling hands.

"_Yes_, it will!" She says with some exasperation, even as she snatches the sunstone from my fingers with a very large grin on her face. "And for being so very kind in allowing me to so much as touch your recently acquired sunstone—which I recognize, by the way, but I can imagine just _who_ gave it to you and that he desperately wants you on his side for it too—I will allow you to watch how I do it, and see if you can get enough of a hint to figure out how it's done." She says.

And I do watch her. I watch her with my inner eye as she separates a tiny part from the ring, the serpent's eye, in fact, by going into the very molecules of it and separating them with kinetic force. Afterwards, I watch as she concentrates the molecules of the air itself around the empty eye of the serpent in the ring, and begins to rearrange the protons, adding, taking away, and using the atoms of the ring as a base for this work. I realize the reason she can only copy molecules and not create them is because the base is needed to avoid causing a nuclear reaction when she separates and adds the protons of an atom, which, by the way, does _not_ happen naturally, nor can it be done chemically without said nuclear reaction.

The leftovers of the atoms she cannot use join together again, and somehow the air molecules have created their own protons, neutrons, and electrons where they were lacking, preventing there from being wastes. This seems to happen naturally for some reason, but one can't deny the blood witch's influence in this, because otherwise it wouldn't be possible.

She hands me back the ring, the shard she had taken from it placed in a small glass bottle so she won't loose it. "Thanks, but before you send me back…I want to know. Can the Elder God be trusted?" I ask her.

Mychala sighs, she had been avoiding answering this question, but now I had backed her into a corner and I wasn't going to let her talk around it either. "I really can't answer that one way or another. The truth is, Rayne, that the Elder God…" And here she purses her lips, looking around as though to make absolutely certain we are not going to be overheard. But as the Elder God cannot see us in the Window World, he wouldn't be able to hear us either, so she is able to speak freely, "The Elder God…was not created to be a god. He is the circulatory system of the Wheal of Fate, _not_ the brain, but over time he has come to believe that he controls the whole, not just the body that is the Wheal of Fate, but Nosgoth itself. That, however, isn't his purpose, and because of this, he cannot be trusted to know what is best for Nosgoth. He may honestly believe that this is the way it should be, but that doesn't mean he is right. And, what's more, he doesn't understand the importance of the vampire race to Nosgoth, and can only see a portion of what they truly are, and that portion is a negative side of the coin. What's more…he had smashed together the Wheal of Fate and Nosgoth itself, making them one thing, when the fact is that they are meant to be two separate parts of the machine.

"I don't know what happened to the real gods, nor do I know why they have chosen to step aside and allow the hub of the Wheal step up into a position they are suppose to fill, but the Elder God is no god. However," And her eyes are intense and piercing now, "You would be wise _not_ to let him know that I told you this. Make him believe you know only as much as the rest of the world, as much as he's told you. That he is, in fact, a god. But no, do not trust him completely, but do not display overt animosity, not just yet. Let him think you are leaning to his side, and he might just give you more information than he would originally want you to have.

"I imagine the only reason he sent you to me is because he doesn't know that I know what he really is. That's the beauty of the shadow realm, that we Soul Singers can hide so well not even _he_ knows where we are or what we're up to. I suggest using the shadow realm as often as you can if you're going to go poking around places with information he might not want you to have. And especially in Nosgoth's future when you get there. Do you understand?" She asks, and I nod.

"Just, one more question before you send me there. I know that the Wheal of Fate needs Soul Singers but…does Nosgoth need the Wheal of Fate?" I ask her.

Mychala Vel gives me a sad smile, "That," She says, "is the very question I have been asking myself for centuries."

&

With instructions to head for the pillars first, for some reason, Mychala sends me through time. And I have found myself back in her hovel 5 centuries in the future.

Mychala has gone from this hiding place. Nothing of her home remains, not even in the Window World, except for a single slip of paper that catches my eye just before I'm about to leave. I unfold it, and find myself deciphering the written script of Hametsu, struggling for a moment before the memories of my lessons snap into place and the characters seem to become as clear as if they were in English. _"Get the paint."_

Lucky I found this note, I might have thought she took the paint with her when she left.

The paint I buried what only felt like yesterday is far deeper in the ground than I remember burying it, and the stone container we placed it in seems to have been fossilized, which I take as a good sign as I send it to subspace.

My trip back to the pillars is uneventful as I stay in the Window World. I pass by those cities, only now seeing their human population and hearing the rush of a crowd's noise, but I don't linger here. This isn't important.

It's only when I arrive _at_ the pillars, or near them, that I find myself staring at the running figure of someone—no, some_thing_ that I had never imagined could be possible.

I watch, from the window world, this blue-skinned creature, so much like a vampire's reborn corpse, yet at the same time so very different, so very much…_more_. Cloven hands and hooves are wrapped above the claws in leather, while a large piece of faded brown clothing with white markings upon it is wrapped around the creature's lower face and shoulders. Its hair is black, raven blue, and its muscular limbs are taunt, powerful, _so powerful_.

He opens the double doors that lead to the pillars, and I find myself compelled, irresistibly, to follow him—as if curiosity weren't enough—and my eyes widen as I see an all-too-familiar figure standing before the pillars, his back to the creature and myself. The creature moves forward, and then, from his hand, a blade of violet light pushes out, and now I am even _more_ confused. But somehow I know that this moment is important, this creature is important and…somehow, familiar. Though I could have _never_ risen such a being as _this_ on my own.

I linger close, invisible, insubstantial, and, for all intensive purposes, nonexistent to these two beings.

"I know you're there, Raziel." Kain says, and my eyes widen.

Oh. My. God.

"Moebius led me to you Kain. Though I might have guessed you'd meet me here." Raziel says, and my eyes grow wide as I stare, transfixed at this being, this other 'Raziel. It's…impossible, and yet…but they can't talk! The raised corpses can't talk!

Could he be…?

He can't be the same person, he _can't_!

"And if Moebius told you I was hidden on the underside of hell would you throw yourself into oblivion to pursue me?" Kain asks with a chuckle. "Moebius trawls for the ignorant and unwary, hauling his gasping pray from the strings of their destinies, stay out of his net Raziel."

"Spare me your elaborate metaphors, Kain, I have pursued you here for one purpose; you will _pay_ for your betrayal. And balance will thus be restored to Nosgoth." Raziel says spitefully.

"And who's will is satisfied then? The will of Raziel or Moebius?"

"Would I be better manipulated by _you_ Kain?" Raziel sneers. "Now, turn and face me," He says, raising his light blade, "The chase is over," He says, following as Kain simply walks away from him, moving towards the central pillar.

"This isn't a chase, Raziel, we are merely passengers on the Wheal of Destiny, describing a perfect circle to this point. We've been brought here for a reason. I've seen the beginning and the end of our story, however, and the tale is crude and ill-conceived. We must rewrite the ending of it, you, and I." Kain says.

"Face me Kain! Even you shouldn't die a coward's death!" Raziel orders.

"Isn't it customary to grant the condemned a final request?" Kain asks, walking round to face this creature.

"I recall no such courtesy from _you_." The other snarls.

"Indulge me, Raziel. All I ask, is that you listen." Kain says, "This is the sublime moment of our undoing, Raziel. The ineffable fulcrum upon which swings the entirety of our history. This is where all of Nosgoth is betrayed. In this instant, Ariel, the Balance Guardian, is murdered by dark forces bent on overthrowing the pillars. Her spirit is just now tearing free, lost in the ether, trying to find its way here. You have already seen how she comes to haunt these pillars." He says.

"Bound here by _your_ refusal to die. _You_ are the reason this land becomes diseased, as long as you remain alive, you condemn Nosgoth to an eternity of decay!"

"Be still, Raziel. _See_ this! As Ariel dies, I am being born to take her place as Balance Guardian, such is my destiny." I suck in a breath involuntarily as, at that moment, the nine white pillars suddenly begin to darken, their change of color starting at the bottom and reaching to the top. As if the black were being soaked up by these monuments from some unseen reservoir below us.

"My god!" Raziel gasps.

"At the moment of my first cry, Ariel's beloved, the guardian Nupraptor, finds her corpse. Rapt with grief and tormented by suspicions of treachery, Nupraptor plunges into a madness which overflows and infects all of the guardians who are symbiotically bound, including me." Kain continues. "The repercussions of Ariel's assassination were expertly calculated. The entire circle descends into madness, and I am tainted at the moment of my birth, instantly rendered incapable of fulfilling the role that destiny has prepared for me." He says.

"Shall I show you the same mercy you showed the rest of the circle, then?" Raziel asks, "You blithely murdered them to restore their pillars, yet your hand faltered when it came to the final sacrifice. What makes you exempt, Kain? You're merely the last man standing. Why condemn me for simply carrying out what you hadn't the courage to do yourself?" Raziel asks.

"Let's drop the moral posturing, shall we?" Kain says with some contempt, "We both know there's no altruism in this pursuit! Your reckless indignation lead you here, I _counted_ on it." He goes on, crossing his hands over his chest. "There's no shame in it, Raziel. Revenge is motivation enough, at least it's _honest_." He hisses, "Hate me, but do it, _honestly_." Oh _there's_ a challenge. After a short pause Kain goes on with his story. "30 years hence, I am presented with a dilemma. Let's call it a two-sided coin. If the coin falls one way, I sacrifice myself, and thus restore the pillars. But as the last surviving vampire in Nosgoth, this would mean the annihilation of our species, Moebius made sure of that." An suddenly I remember what Mychala Vel had told me so recently.

"_Unfortunately, with the circumstances rigged the way they will be in the future, the saving of the pillars will involve the death of the vampire race, and while very few realize it, or understand why, the vampire race is __**crucial**__ to the survival of Nosgoth._ _So one way or another, Nosgoth dies, slowly and painfully. But so long as the vampires live, there is still hope. So long as __you__ can be born to return to this time, there must still be a way to save Nosgoth, and __stop__ the Hyldan."_ And now I knew what those circumstances were, and I remember what Moebius had told me about this 'Circle', and why Kain refused the sacrifice, or rather, why he _will_ refuse the sacrifice. I also know that with the pillars' corruption, the lock that keeps the Hyldan at bay weakens, as it must, because nothing is meant to last for eternity.

I doubt Kain knew, at the time, how much of a necessary evil he had committed in refusing to sacrifice himself if only to save his own life and the entire vampire race.

Kain continues speaking. "If the Coin lands on the reverse, I refuse the sacrifice and thus doom the Pillars to an eternity of collapse. Either way, the game is rigged." He says.

"We agree then," Raziel says, "that the Pillars are crucial, and must be restored."

"Yes, Raziel, and that's why we've come full circle to this place." Kain says.

"So after all this, you make my case for me." Raziel says with some irritation, "To end this stalemate you must die so that new guardians can be born!"

"The pillars don't belong to _them_, Raziel. They belong, to _us_." Kain says, and I find my memories returning to the murals I had seen in that chamber beneath the pillars. The ones in which the architects were the original vampire race. I hate myself for it, but I have to agree with Kain. How can humans truly know to guard and protect something that they neither built nor should have taken in the first place?

Raziel, on the other hand, does not agree with me. "Your arrogance is _boundless_ Kain." He sneers, but Kain only chuckles.

"There's a _third_ option." He says, and my attention snaps sharply to his words. Ah yes, _this_ must be why Moebius is so desperate for him to die, and so frightened of what he's doing here in the past. "A monumental secret, hidden in your very presence here." More like his very _existence_ I'm thinking. "But it's a secret you have to discover for yourself." Gah! Not _this_ again!! Stupid earning-knowledge-for-growth crap is going to bite us _both_ in the butt, I just _know_ it! "Unearth your destiny Raziel, it's all laid out for you here."

"You said it yourself, Kain, there are only two sides to your coin." Raziel retorts.

"_Apparently_ so, but suppose you throw a coin enough times, suppose one day, it lands on its _edge_." He says, and with that, he disappears.

Now that he's gone, I deliberate over revealing myself to Raziel, if only so I might ask him some questions but…somehow I don't think he'll be particularly friendly. Still, if what Kain says is true, then Raziel and I have something in common, and, what's more, it might just be the _same_ thing. But, I still have to meet with Mychala to perform the Cardikamon. I should probably…

HOLY CRAP DID HE JUST PASS INTO THE SPECTRAL REALM!?

Okay, that's it, I'm following him! This is just going to drive me insane, _especially_ if this is, in fact, the same Raziel as…no, I can't think about that, I don't _want_ to think about that. I shut my eyes tight and block it out.

But…there's nothing else to it. This could, very well, be the Raziel that Moebius's future ghost mentioned, as well as the Sarafan Priest who possessed that powerful burning light…and might, had the situation been different, my heart as well.

The same one that had tried to stop it because of his fanatical beliefs and loyalty to Moebius's past self.

But if this is the same Raziel, then it looks as though the true nature of that light has made its appearance. I don't understand it, but I know it is significant, _direly_ significant, and I have to find out what it is, what is different about him. And there is also that undeniable connection between us, a connection that just…_happened_, that sprung up out of nowhere, or perhaps, had always been there, just never allowed to show itself due to the time that separated the two of us. It was like the kind of connection a man and women have with one another, but different, _more_ than that, and I don't know whether or not that connection has to do with the light, or our entwined fates.

I follow him, hidden away in the Window World, wondering how I might approach him, reveal myself to him. Will he remember me? The self-proclaimed half-vampire that somehow managed to obtain his affection in the space of a few hours and then crush any chance of being together the same day? Who he tried to kill, who took his blood?

If he does…what will I do? How will I be able to look him in the eye? But, well, I will have to face the music sooner or later.

I just hope I don't have to find out what that energy blade is made of the hard way.

&  
Ending Notes and Stuff!  
&

Rayne: FINALLY!! RAZIEL IS IN THE PICTURE!! Er…shouldn't he be in the Ending Notes then?

Rhea: Er…well _yeah_ but…

Elsewhere…

Raziel: (Running for his life from a herd of rabid fangirls) SOMEONE HELP ME!!

Ending Notes…

Rhea: He's kinda busy…

Rayne: DANGIT!! WHEN DO I GET TO MEET HIM!? THIS ISN'T FAIR!!

Rhea: Chill out! And, technically, you _did_ meet him. (Points to Human Raziel)

H. Raziel: Why haven't I been in the ENs lately?

Rayne: Well, he doesn't count, he's human and was a real jerkhole in the game.

H. Raziel: I can change!

Rayne: Oh shut up, you're not _actually_ in love with me, remember? There's a—

Rhea: FANGIRLIZM!! IT WAS FANGIRLIZM!! SILENCE!! (Glomps Rayne)

Rayne: GAH! GETOFFA ME!!

Kioko: (Comes in with her hair a mess looking flustered) I don't guess any of _you_ would have anything to do with Kain's weird behavior lately, _would you_?

Rayne&Rhea: (Freeze in place) Er…what makes you say that?

Kioko: Because, _apparently_, he was under the impression that _I_ have a crush on _him_. I don't guess either of you can explain this.

Rayne: Er, _noooo_, he just sort of came to the conclusion himself because you always seem to like having him unconscious and at your mercy.

Kioko: And neither of you bothered to inform him that I, literally, have no heart?

Rhea: I don't see how that'd matter, seeing as how, after Defiance, he doesn't have one either.

Kioko: Rhea…Are you trying to set us up?

Rhea: IT WAS HER! (Points to Rayne)

Rayne: _Thanks_ Rhea, thanks a _lot_.

Kioko: Alright then, Rayne, I'll leave the actual explaining to _you_.

Rhea: R&R PLZ!! (Runs away and hides)

Mychala Vel: And if anyone's wondering how, if Moebius and Mortanius got their knowledge from me, where the _other_ 7 guardians got _their_ knowledge, the answer is—

SUDDEN ENDING!


	10. Blood Must Flow

A/N:...Heyyyy, where'd everyone go?

...VIEW MY COMIC!! (Posted on DeviantArt)

&

"_Raziel chose his fate, Rayne. Are you going to blame me for what happened to him? Raziel was the only one who could choose his own fate, the only one who had free will, and he chose to become the Reaver."_ Kain's words return to me, and yet, even as I watch Raziel summon that blade of light and open the door with the ancient vampire depicted on it, I still don't really understand the true significance of this. How can a person _become_ a blade? A soul can haunt a place, object, or person, but can the energies of a soul be focused into a weapon's power? Can a person's soul be forged within a weapon?

I suppose I haven't given much thought to the significance of Kain's sword, the Soul Reaver, and perhaps I should. He and Moebius seem to feel that it's presence in this time might be enough to alter things but…

If Raziel is destined to become the Soul Reaver, then the blade must be far more than I had suspected. I would have to study it more closely when I could do so without risking something monumental happening if it were to come in contact with its past self.

I follow Raziel in the Window World so that I can watch him whether he's in the physical world or the spectral realm. He cannot seem to pass from the spectral realm back into the physical one without the use of certain conduits that seem to have been placed at strategic points for his use. But by whom, I don't realize until I follow him into the underground chamber where I, myself, had first met the Elder God.

He is considering the paintings as I had been, he looks at them, then seems to regard himself as I watch, safely hidden away from both his and the Elder God's vision in the Window World. It's only now that I see the tattered bluish lengths falling from his back like a silted pair of fleshy capes. And my eyes widen as, seeing the wings upon the murals, I realize what they must have been when he was alive.

But, my god, could he have been one of the ancient vampires!? That might explain how his second life's body could be so much more advanced than any of the raised corpses _I_ have been able to call forth. But…no, this is something more than just a raised corpse. I'm not sure what it is, but he seems, as far as I've been able to tell, like both a raised vampire corpse and a wraith at once. Which might explain his appetite for souls. And it might also explain how he seems to have come from the _future_ right along with Kain when his human self would have been long dead. How ironic to be changed into a vampire. But at the very least, I feel…relieved. A human changed into a vampire while they're still alive retains their memories, but a human's long-dead corpse taken and changed, forcing the soul to return from the Wheal into the body, that would mean he has no memories of his past, and would not know me. It's a grim relief, but a relief all the same.

"Lies, Raziel." Says a familiar voice, and I focus my senses upon listening to the conversation. I stay in the Window World, because somehow, I don't want the Elder God to know I'm here. "Do not be deceived."

Raziel reacts to the voice, and he turns, walking to the edge of the platform to look down into the water where the Elder God lies. "Ah, my ancient benefactor. And I dared to hope we had parted ways forever. Your silence was refreshing, while it lasted. No doubt you have a conveniently inexpressible reason for your presence here." He says with disdain.

"Do not be insolent, Raziel. I am eternally present, here and everywhere, now and always! I am the still center of the turning Wheal, the hub of this world's destiny." My, this sounds familiar.

"But perhaps, not so omnipotent as you'd have me believe. Your hold on me appears to be tenuous, I no longer seem to need you. Yet I'm guessing _you_ still need _me_." He says.

"This, impudence is unworthy of you Raziel." The Elder God responds contemptuously. "Do not forget you still have a task to perform here. You are indebted to me."

"Indebted? You would have me show gratitude for a gift I didn't ask to be bestowed? Did you forget that you _forced_ me to inhabit this vile carcass?" Raziel demands.

"I restored you to yourself, Raziel." The Elder God claims, and I find my eyes narrowing. _Did_ he now? I can't help but feel as though this isn't exactly something the Elder God is capable of doing. Oh no, he would have had _help_. "It was Kain who destroyed you. The very enemy you've just let slip through your grasp. Do not fail me, my _servant_." He says.

"I serve no one." Raziel retorts, "Not you, not Kain, and not your lackey Moebius!"

"Moebius is my good servant; I have many." The Elder God boasts.

"And if I tell Moebius he's worshiping a giant squid, do you think his faith will falter?" Raziel asks. Oh _burn_!

"You have grown willful, Raziel." The Elder God growls, "But beware; to embrace a serpent is to invite poison into your heart. Kain is a sinuous beast, he will seduce and deceive you! You pride yourself on your free will, yet you let that degenerate deter your resolve."

"I harbor no illusions about _his_ integrity." Raziel sneers, "Nor anyone else's, in fact I am beset by manipulation on _all_ sides. I merely seek the truth." He says.

"_These_ are the fathomless truths, Raziel!" The Elder God thunders, "The agony of birth and death and rebirth, _this_ is the Wheal of Fate, the purifying cycle which sustains all life. Vampires are an abomination, a plague which leaches this land of its spiritual strength! They obstruct the flow of life and death, their souls stagnate in their wretched corpses. But the Wheal must turn; death is inexorable and cannot be denied. Your destiny is irresistible Raziel. You _are_ my soul reaver, the scourge of the vampires, reaper of their apostate souls! Remain steadfast, end the vampire's parasitic curse, and restore Nosgoth. Kain's blood belongs on your hands."

"Kain indeed deserves to die, for condemning me to this repugnant form. But _if_ and _when_ I kill him, it will be for me alone to decide." Raziel declares.

"Kain destroyed you without a flicker of remorse! He tore the soul from your noble corpse! And after you had served him faithfully for a thousand years, he discarded you in the Abyss on a jealous whim." The Elder God responds, "Remember your rage, Raziel, let it guide your hand."

I don't believe for a minute that the Elder God had anything to do with Raziel's resurrection. Only very powerful and slow-working blood magic could have done this, I'm sure of it. Perhaps an attempt was made to turn a human/vampire into a wraith for some reason, and this was the outcome. Or it is all the work of that blue light? Perhaps both. But if Raziel is truly significant to Nosgoth's history, then I know one person who'd be able to tell me what he is and how this resurrection had come about.

But before I leave to find Mychala Vel, I place a marker on Raziel, something that will lead me to him wherever he is, though which will only exist in the Window World.

I think I'll refrain from telling him about it, though. Just in case.

&

Travel in the Window World is much faster and much easier than in either the physical or spectral realms for a very simple reason. Neither space, matter, nor time have as much of an effect on us in this realm, though all exist and time does pass the same as it would in the physical and spectral realms. Matter is only truly substantial if it is an object taken from the physical world into this one, otherwise a body can pass through with an effort of will.

So when I send out a call to find Mychala Vel, and she answers back, it doesn't take as long to find her traveling through the Window World as it did previously. Unfortunately she tells me to make a few detours, and in all the excitement, I had no idea just how hungry I was until she said something about making sure I was fully nourished before we began.

I don't enjoy it, but this is something I have to do, and the only way to get blood in ancient Nosgoth is to take it forcefully, and, unfortunately, through death.

My body does not need much blood to sustain it, however my blood magic is going to need a lot for what I'm about to do. I will be loosing quite a lot of blood during the Cardikamon, and so I will need to be at the height of my strength, higher, even, in order to make sure I don't pass out before the ritual can be completed. For if I do…the consequences could be dire.

I sigh with resignation as I find a few vampire hunters. This time around, I make sure to remove my boots before transforming into my vampiric form, and all I have to do is pass from the Window World into the physical realm and then be seen.

"There's one! Prepare yourself, demon!" They cry.

"Consider me prepared." I say, disarming the first swordsman to reach me with a single kick to his sword hand, knocking the blade straight from his grip.

A single laceration is all I need, a cut, a gnash, whatever it takes to break the precious barrier of flesh and dip into the hot elixir of this man's flowing blood. The three others that were with him are upon me, and while they are formidable opponents each, and a while ago I might not have been able to vanquish them quite so easily had I intended to let them live. Kain's blood is powerful, and it has enhanced my strength greatly. They are no match for me, my deadly dance, without the need for weapons other than my own powerful claws, takes them down, and my blood magic sucks the lifeblood from their very hearts and pulls it towards me in dark flowing ribbons, sinking into my skin, feeding both my body and my magic.

I press onward as the act is finished, and I leave the souls of the dead humans to find their own way to the wheal. _They_ can go without my help after all.

Little do I realize that, even as I pass back and forth from the Window World, continuing to assault these humans for their blood, half out of necessity, half out of a desire to satisfy the anger I feel at their destructive acts against my kind, I am leaving a trail for a certain curious someone to follow.

&

Mychala is waiting for me in the physical world, high up in a place no mortal could reach without access to the spectral realm (or Window World for that matter), and she seems to have moved into a cave that is not so difficult to get to as her last hiding place. I guess she isn't bothering to hide anymore, though I'm not sure why. Maybe it is only for this purpose that she's moved into the cave, though most of her housing is in the Window World.

"Before we start, there's something I want to ask you." I say.

"Ask me inside while you bathe." She says, taking my arm and drawing me within the cave with more strength than an old woman should be displaying if she wants to remain appearing old.

"Bathe?" I ask, blankly.

"Yes, bathe, you have to cleanse yourself in water before I can administer the paint. Oh, and you have to be naked too." She tells me brusquely.

Her eagerness to get on with the ritual is kind of suspicious, but maybe she wants to do it as soon as possible in case I forget the dream's steps and songs. "Well, obviously, if I'm going to take a bath—wait, I'm not going to be naked during the Cardikamon itself am I!? Doesn't it have to be out in the open!?" I exclaim.

"Well, you'll need to be as scantly clothed as possible because the paint will need to touch the open air for it to work, but we have a set of special garments specifically for the rite." She answers, and I find myself being drawn into the pleasant warmth of an underground spring. There is a pool of deep water that is slowly yet constantly being pumped in and pulled out by the current, circulating a flow of warm, clean water that has just a hint of sulfur in it. And I realize why Mychala picked this mountain. It is, in fact, a dormant volcano, a direct vein into the earth's heart. It is the perfect, and perhaps _proper_ place to perform the Cardikamon.

I peal off my black leather, sticky from sweat and grime I hadn't noticed. But then, when one gets distracted enough to forget sleep and food, one gets distracted enough to forget personal hygiene. Though at least it didn't get _too_ bad.

"Here's the soap and shampoo, don't take too long with it, but do a good, thorough job." She instructs, setting the two bottles down next to the pool for me. "Now, what's the question you have to ask me?"

"I've seen Raziel." I tell her, slipping into the hot water and taking the liquid soap so I can begin lathering it up and scrubbing it all over my skin. I study her face, and I see the expectant, almost mischievously cheerful look on her face die away, and is replaced with a sigh.

"Ah, yes, Raziel." She says with a slightly rueful smile. "He was such an adorable little thing when he was a baby. Raven black hair, and the most gorgeous pair of royal blue eyes." She recounts wistfully.

"So, it _was_ you…you did it when he was a baby, didn't you?" I ask, staring at her as I scrub away the grime from my foot. And suddenly I realize something, something that Raziel had mentioned to me himself. _"I never knew my mother. I was orphaned as a child. An old wise woman took me in and raised me until one day a nobleman came and asked for me to be a companion for his son."_

"Poor boy was raised as an orphan, never knew his real parents. To him I was the kindly woman who had found him and taken him in. I fed him, I clothed him, and I educated him well, a bit too well, it seems, as his sharp little mind and strong little body caught the attention of a nobleman who was seeking out companions for his son. Oh he promised a good life for the child, clean clothes, proper bedding, good food, and a nobleman's rank. He offered me gold in exchange but I refused, naturally. You can't give a child away for gold, no amount of gold can replace a child. Of course I told the nobleman he wasn't my son, I told him that Raziel did not know his parents, but that they had once been of high blood before they were murdered, and that I would not reveal their identities to him because Raziel needn't know his parent's names, it would just make their absence more painful." She tells me.

"How…why…and, what did you turn him into?" I ask her.

"I fed him milk infused with phoenix tears and sang songs to his body, mind, and soul while he slept. I had him sip many different potions, brought his body through many different realms, making him strong, durable, powerful. It was a long and cruel process. He would cry so much as a baby, but I wouldn't allow such memories to linger, to leave scars upon him. He was a baby for a very long time, much longer than he should have been, but he doesn't remember, naturally, and he never will." She says, her smile sad, her eyes full of regret. The ecliptic pupils do not burn so brightly now; they simply appear to be rings of light and little more. "At last, after centuries, I fed him the Shaman's Eye, and allowed his body to begin its proper growth." She finishes, and my breath comes into my lungs like a hiss.

"The…the Shaman's Eye? My god, that light—It…it wasn't a legend? It actually…it existed!? And you…you fed it, to Raziel, you gave it to him, knowing what would happen, knowing that it would…would turn him into a—a—"

"A deity?" Mychala finishes, smiling ruefully.

"I guess that's the kindest way to put it." I say, feeling sick to my stomach, unable to look at Mychala. "Do you know what he's become Mychala? Or what he _will_ become in the distant future? Do you know what wretched shape his body was twisted into when his soul refused to leave it? When his body refused to die? He resurrected himself, didn't he?! He's like the ultimate form of a raised corpse mixed with a wraith! He feeds on the souls of the dead to sustain himself like a wraith, yet he has the ability to walk the material world, the physical world! And for what purpose!? Why did you do this, why did it have to be him!? And what is it that he has to do, what purpose does he have, what destiny is so vital that you had to give him the most precious, and most _terrible_ treasure of all?!" I demand, unable to hold my temper, unable to give Mychala more respect than I am showing her. I can't imagine how she would do this to a child, but, I suppose, it might just be another of those necessary evils the world is so full of.

"You're reading too much into this, Rayne." She tells me, neither surprised, nor at all angered by my outburst. In fact, she's simply accepting it. "I did not make Raziel what he is because that is what he was destined to become. Raziel _had_ no destiny when he was born, that destiny has been chosen for him, long, _long_ after he was taken from me, and the Wheal of Fate realized what he was and decided to try and include him. The trouble is that Raziel is a wild card, even to the Wheal. A fate has been selected for him, but he is not bound to it. By nature of his being, he is beyond the power of the Wheal, beyond its ability to directly spin his fate. _He_ has the ability to choose his own destiny, and _that's_ what makes him so important, so very dangerous, and yet so valuable at the same time. He plays an important role in this world's history, purely because he is outside the control of the Wheal of Fate, and can therefore _defy_ it." She explains. "But don't flatter me by thinking I made him that way for this purpose. Oh no, when he was born, his only purpose was to die, to either die a slow and painful death or to be mercifully murdered at birth for no other reason than that he had the misfortune of being a boy. Giving him the Shaman's Eye was a purely selfish act so that he might live, forever, yes, but he would _live_. That's all it was." She tells me.

I stare at her, "I…I don't understand. What do you mean it was sel—" I can't finish, the way her eyes are boring into mine tells me everything.

Fully awakened blood witches can, of course, have children. There's nothing against that, except that it is discouraged somewhat for a very good reason. As our power extends throughout our bodies, we can control when and if we get pregnant (we have to, otherwise we'd probably be having baby after baby the moment we find our soul mate if you get my drift), unfortunately, we can_not_ control what gender the child will be. The male seed determines the gender, the female body determines the race.

But if the blood witch's magic is fully awakened, that magic inhabits the child, automatically granting them whatever it is that makes it possible for them to use blood magic and _become_ a blood witch, rather than just a necromancer.

There are no male blood witches. That is forbidden, but for a very, _very_ good reason.

Boys don't randomly obtain the ability to become blood witches like girls do. The only way for there to be a male blood witch is for the child to be born from a fully fledged blood witch. So if the child is female, it lives to become her mother's apprentice. If the child is male, it is killed immediately after leaving the womb. It has to be, because if you don't kill the boy child, your blood magic _will_.

In order for the magic to work, blood must flow, naturally. Blood must flow out of the body, naturally, and be recycled on a monthly basis.

Blood must flow.

Blood flows naturally from the body of a girl, _not_ from a boy.

Blood _must_ flow.

At adolescence, when the boys reach the age they might have bled had they been girls, they do bleed. They bleed, and they bleed, and it doesn't stop until there's nothing left. They die, painfully, slowly, and there is nothing anything or anyone can do about it.

Because blood must flow.

Mychala kept Raziel as a baby long, long after the time when he would have become an adolescent. She fed him phoenix tears to heal him just in case his blood spilled from his body in spite of this. She fed him potions and took him through the realms in order to prepare his body, to strengthen it. Then, finally, she ensured his survival by giving him the Shaman's Eye.

"It was the desperate, selfish act of a mother whose one and only child had to be slaughtered, his only crime being that he was born a boy and not a girl."

Raziel was Mychala's son, and she had done the unthinkable.

She had let him live.

&  
Ending Notes and Stuff!  
&

Everyone: 0.0 (Shocked speechless with random intervals of squeaking as many of the party attempts to portray their shock and disbelief)

Rhea: I know I've used this analogy before somewhere, but I'll do it again just to get my point across. (Holds up a piece of clay) This represents my plot (Begins twisting clay mercilessly) MUAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Raziel: My…mother…is…

Rhea: _The_ most powerful Soul Singer in all Nosgoth! Doesn't that make you special!? Well, you were special anyway, but now you have status! Okay you had that too before Kain ripped off your wings and tossed you into the abyss, but now you—

Raziel: I GET THE PICTURE!!

Mychala: Well, now that you know…I must protest your lack of pants young man!! You've gone from wearing them too low to not wearing them at all and it looks funny!!

Rayne: He doesn't have the right hips for pants though…

Raziel: Oh very funny.

Mychala: And another thing, why do you have to cover your face with this silly thing? (Swipes cowl) Why can't we see your handsome face once and a while, hmmm?

Raziel: GAAAAH!! (Hides face) Because I don't have a face woman!! Thanks to _you_, apparently!

Mychala: No back-talking! (Fwaps him over the head with her walking stick)

Raziel: Okay that's it! You can't just be completely absent throughout my entire lives and then suddenly appear one day and expect to treat me like your son!!

Mychala: But, but (Sniff) I've waited centuries for this…(Bursts into tears) Ever s-since you were old enough t-to talk I had to p-pretend like I w-wasn't your mother so none of the other S-Soul Singers would know what I'd doooone!! And then you w-were t-taken from me-e-e-e!! And n-now I c-can't even b-be your mother f-for a few m-minutes!?

Raziel: Er, ah, well, that is to say…(Looks around for support, finds none)

Rayne: Geeze, Raziel, you're such a jerk! I mean she's your _mother_ after all!

Rhea: Yeah! Can't you see she's been through a rough time? I mean, she's ancient! She's older than dirt and you're probably her only child and she couldn't acknowledge you because she couldn't let the other Soul Singers know about what she did to save you! At least let her mother you in the ending notes for the love of god!

Raziel: But, I…

Mychala: (_Sob_)

Raziel:…fine…

Mychala: (Produces pair of pants) Here you go! And I want you to call my 'Mommy' from now on too!

Raziel: Er…_Mommy_?

Mychala: (Squeals) MY BABY!! (Huggles him)

Rayne & Rhea: Awwwwwwwww.

Kioko: Oh dear gods I think I'm going to hurl.

Kain: I agree…hey Mychala Vel, my mom wouldn't happen to have been a Soul Singer who used some other artifact to save me from death too, would she?

Mychala: Yes, your mother was my sister Klossa Vel and she used the Ancient and Very Powerful Spork of Agamemnon.

Kain: 0.o But I thought you said Klossa Vel was—HEY!!

Raziel: (Snickers) Nice try Kain.

Rhea: Hey, you know what? We don't know who Kain's parents really were either. This gives me an idea…

Later…

Rhea: (In Jail) Well, THAT didn't work.

Kioko: I'LL say. What were you planning to do with that piano wire anyway?

Rhea: Well I—

SUDDEN ENDING!!  
(Er…again)

…please R&R!


	11. The Cardikamon

A/N: I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts, dedlidee…

Kioko: GAH!! NOT THAT SONG AGAIN FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GIVE IT A REST ALREADY!!

Elder God: I don't love you.

Kioko: (Glares) (Produces harpoon)

Elder God: See!? This is why! AAAAAH!! (Gets jammed in the eyeball with harpoon)

&

I could never bear the thought of having children. If it were a boy I bore, he would have to die, if it were a girl, I could either choose not to train her, to awaken her powers, thus giving her the ability to have sons that _wouldn't_ die, or I could train her as my apprentice, robbing her of the sons she might have, but giving her the tools she would need in order to survive, and to escape from those that would use her, as I feared Kain would use me, to give birth to more Dhampirs. Because I can't just _make_ Dhampirs. If I were to bear a dark child by changing a human into a vampire, they'd become a full vampire like everyone else. The only way to get a Dhampir is for them to be born.

Once I had given in to my body's own yearning to bear children. I had fallen in love with a powerful earth elemental, a human named Ash who knew what I was and swore to take the secret to his grave. I suppose I wanted to keep something of him, to perpetuate his blood in my body by merging our two bodies into a new one. Because, as a human, he would grow old, and he would die, in spite of the long period of youth his magic afforded him. But I loved him so much while he was alive.

The child had been a boy.

Ash didn't understand what I had to do, he tried to stop me, but I couldn't let him. I cupped my hand over its mouth and nose to prevent it from breathing, I drew the blood swiftly from the child's body through the untied umbilical cord, and I sang its soul free from its body so there would be no pain.

I tried to kill myself afterwards, and Ash thought I had gone mad. This time he was able to stop me, and he tried to bring me back to my sanity by telling me that we could have another child, that maybe whatever blighted the first one enough I had to take its life wouldn't happen again. But I couldn't do it.

I don't think I can ever bear to take the same risk again, the risk that my child might be a boy, that I might have to take its life before it had even breathed.

"Blood must flow." I say spitefully, hot tears falling down my cheeks.

Would I have done what Mychala did? If I had the means, the ability, if _I_ had been given responsibility of the Shaman's Eye, had Mychala not used it on Raziel, would I have done the same? Would I have turned my son into a…'deity', just to spare myself the pain of having to kill him?

"He was never meant to have a destiny." Mychala whispers, "But because of me, he does, and there are more than one, yet all are cruel. But all I can do is watch from the sidelines and hope and pray that he somehow manages to free himself from those unfavorable destinies, selfish to the end, even though fulfilling the most cruel of them all could mean the salvation of Nosgoth." She says.

"By becoming the Soul Reaver…" I whisper. "But, by the gods, _that's_ what Kain meant! Mychala! He doesn't have to sacrifice himself this time! I _have_ the Soul Reaver, the completed blade from the future! If the blade is already fully forged and completed, then Raziel doesn't have to be sacrificed to it, because these futures are all different! This blade can exist because of the eternal loop, and because the future I came from has been erased rather than simply rewritten to accommodate the changes I'm making! What if, because of this, it _doesn't_ create a shattering paradox, because the soul of Raziel in the blade that I have is _different_ from the soul of Raziel in this time, rather than the same. Their memories and experiences are going to be different because _I'm_ different. So whatever the Soul Reaver was forged to do can be done without Raziel's sacrifice. And that…that could be the trigger, his survival, his continuing existence as an individual, could be the trigger that we need to stop this eternal looping, to _save_ Nosgoth somehow." I say.

Mychala can only look at me with a calm, yet hopeful expression on her face, "I hope you're right, you have no idea how much I hope you're right. But I've learned not to hope too much these days. I don't think my heart can take another crushing blow." She says, but she looks better for it in any case. "But Rayne…" And now her eyes are serious, "You have to promise me that you won't tell him any of this. It will only cause him grief, he doesn't need to know who his mother, and _especially_ not his father, are. Don't tell him his destiny either, don't tell him what he's suppose to become simply because he didn't die at birth as he was meant to. The Wheal of Fate just wants to push him out of the game, and the vampire legends are merely a convenient tool to do so through. The vampire's savior was never meant to be Raziel, the Reaver was never meant to be so terribly powerful, and if you can truly sway what History has in store for him…swear to me you won't tell him. If he absolutely _must_ know…_I_ should be the one to tell him. It's not a burden for you to bear." She says.

"I understand, I promise I won't tell him any of this." I say.

She smiles, "No Oath then? Very wise, but sometimes it is more difficult to rely on one's own integrity than an Oath sworn. Still, if I were rendered incapable of explaining what has to be said, I would want you to tell him. But…" She sighs, "I don't believe he needs to know this, it will only bring pain." And she smiles. "So, aren't you curious?" She asks, her smile becoming a wide grin that is somehow able to replace the sorrow she had suffered, and I find myself suspicious at this sudden cheerful attitude, which typically means mischief.

"Um, curious about _what_, exactly?" I ask her, and her grin widens.

"As to who the father was of course." She answers. I blink.

"Well I guess, but I don't—" My eyes widen, and I get that same feeling of hearing a crashing sound in my mind as my entire world seems to shatter to pieces. "Oh, my, god, please, please, _please_, for the love of all that is good and holy, _don't tell me_ his father is, was, _Janos Audran_!!" I exclaim. Because, of course, as a _blood witch_ she doesn't need his _seed_ for reproduction, oh noooo, she'd just need his _blood_. The _blood_ has DNA and the DNA has the information needed to create whichever reproductive gene is necessary. Infertility doesn't have a say in the matter anymore with_ that_ method.

"Okay, I won't _tell_ you, though it looks like you're clever enough you figured it out on your own so I don't have to." She answers.

"AAAAAAAAAUGH!! NO WONDER VORADOR HATES YOU!!" I shout in an agony of indignation.

"Finish your bath and hand me the paint so we can get this over with." She orders me, forcing my head down beneath the surface of the water so I don't have much of a choice.

&

"Any more fabric and I'd have enough for a bikini." I say, looking down at myself and the 'ceremonial garments' I have to wear. They are black, naturally, with a strap of cloth around the breasts which is gathered in the middle to ensure that as much of my upper body as possible can be exposed to the air, and thus as much paint as possible can be applied to my body. I am wearing a small loincloth as well, but at the very least there's something behind it.

"What _are_ you complaining about? I would have _killed_ to have been born with a body like yours." Mychala says, _completely_ unsympathetic as she holds my arm still and administers the paint, which has turned into a deep blue-violet color over the years. The paint sinks into my skin only moments after she's used it, and the designs she's drawing are very small, detailed, and intricate with lines as thin as she can make them. She's a very good artist, I'll give her credit for that, but I can recognize a lot of the designs she is drawing all over my body as being the symbols for certain elements…and liken to the designs of the light, the Shaman's Eye, I now know, that was within Rasiel. They are gothic marks, with many curves and sharp angles. They somehow appear both demonic and angelic at once. I'm glad Mychala's doing this too, I have no artistic ability whatsoever. You don't get many artists in Nosgoth's future, it's not a skill that can keep you alive, to be honest.

"Yeaaaaaah, I imagine if I grew up in the lap of luxury you did I might not have muscles where there's _suppose_ to be fat." I tell her as she releases my hand. I wait until the paint has sunk completely in my skin and I admire her work, "Wow, you really are good at this." I breathe.

"I once had a place in a human society making such designs on pottery and such. That I could heal the sick and the dying was but a minor side-job." She tells me, and I can't help but snicker.

She paints as much of my body as possible and somehow making it so the lack of paint on the parts of me that need to be covered doesn't appear to be holes by bringing both broad and detailed designs into the mix across my chest and middle. She paints my face last, having me pull back my red hair so she can gently etch the designs in with that tiny brush. We made a lot of paint, but most of it is used up by the time she pronounces herself satisfied.

After that, it is time.

The rest of the paint is used to draw a large circle on the clear earth in which I will be dancing. This bears no decoration, because it needs to be as wide as possible. This is simply to create a sort of doorway into the earth's core into which the vitality of my blood can enter, and the gift of the Cardikamon can exit.

I enter the circle and I kneel, one knee bent, my hands flat upon the earth and my head bowed as I wait. Mychala, standing outside the circle, chants the song for the Cardikamon's beginning. Her voice resonates throughout the clearing, and sinking into the earth. The paint of the circle around me begins to burn, it changes into the golden hot color of molten rock, and I feel the resonance flow into my body. I can feel eyes upon me, the eyes of the earth, possibly even the eyes of the Elder God, but still I wait. I wait for the time when I must begin.

The time comes. I rise, I raise my hands, hearing music begin, a soft, sad tune. My eyes darken as my blood magic pulses through my body, ready, waiting.

I begin the dance. I begin to sing.

_Water, water, prevail, my searing landscape  
__Water, water, relieve, my pain and let me in  
Fire, fire, paint all, your flames on my skin  
Fire, fire, burn deep, and purify my sins_

My voice is soft at first, as are the steps of the dance. Smooth, slow, graceful.

_Water, water, take on, your child for dying  
Father, father, I know, I promised you to swim_

My voice grows in strength, as do the steps of the dance. The sound of the music in my mind is heard throughout the clearing as the circle itself seems to play it. I can feel the power of the earth flow in me. I strike out one hand, and from my wrist down the markings suddenly break into lacerations. I strike out the other, the same thing happens. Blood now flows.

_I am, the plastic you adore  
__I am, the nail to hold your door  
I am, the light you'll never find  
I am, the sun of far-gone times  
I am, the sun of far-gone life_

With every completed line, with every completed move, new lacerations draw themselves over my flesh, shallow, but the blood does not clot. It falls to the earth, splattering as I dance. But there is no pain, there is no weakness, there is only the dance, there is only the song.

_You drown in a lake of fire my blame divine are you  
How deep are the scars in your head, as deep as once your screw?  
__And now that you've burned your wings, say how it feels to be denied  
__How sweet is the darkest fire when the water by your side?_

There is pain now, but not from the lacerations. No, I feel my body resisting the change that is slowly coming over it, trying to make me stop, to force me to cease my dance. But I do not stop, I can't stop, not now.

_I am, the plastic you adore  
__I am, the nail to hold your door  
I am, the light you'll never find  
I am, the sun of far-gone times  
I am, the sun of far-gone life_

Blood flows from my entire body now. Flowing out in hovering ribbons that spin around me, as though the blood wishes to join me in my dance for a few moments before it falls to the ground. I don't stop, I can't stop, my body seems to be moving of its own free will now, as the song rips itself from my throat.

_Water, water, prevail, my searing landscape  
__Water, water, relieve, my pain and let me in  
Fire, fire, paint all, your flames on my skin  
Father, father, I never, promised you to swim_

Eyes are upon me, eyes that do not belong to Mychala or the earth. Someone else is watching me, someone far less welcome than a stranger. But I cannot think of that right now, all that matters is the dance, the song, and its completion.

_I am, the plastic you adore  
__I am, the nail to hold your door  
I am, the light you'll never find  
Still I'm, the sun of far-gone times  
Still I'm, the sun of far-gone life_

My body is now shifting back and forth between my human form and my vampire one, freely, smoothly, _easily_. The pain is leaving, being replaced by wariness as the blood I've lost is taking its toll on me. But I can do this, I have the strength. There is raw power in my blood.

_Hold on, through the flames you walk as I leave your horizon  
__Bleed on, through the waves you talk in your fevered delight now  
Dreep on, under burning rooms and falling mind-stars  
So long, keep the sun and the moon, and tell them of your scars  
Maybe they will care_

(A/N: Song is The One I Drowned by Flowing Tears. It's a fairly soft song compared to what I usually listen to but I _love_ the lyrics.)

I kneel to the ground once more, the dance complete, the song complete. The earth moves beneath me, and I can feel its power rising up and flowing into me. I am lifted up off the ground. Blood flows freely, and from the earth itself streams of another sort of blood begin pouring into me through the lacerations. The blood of the earth, the molten hot magma that boils within this mountain. Lava, hot, searing, yet at the same time filled with a vitality that no mortal body could possibly possess. I scream with the pain, yet I welcome it at the same time, forcing my body to relax and accept this power into it.

My body changes, and changes, and changes, though on the inside. The lacerations become markings, still burning golden hot with the blood of the earth itself. They let off steam, my eyes burn the same color. I am liken unto a golem crafted of fire, but I am much, much more.

I am kneeling upon the ground once again, but I rise to my feet, and I can't help but marvel at my own body. Not just the golden glow of the earth's blood, still burning within the markings, but also at the strength of its new elasticity. It's amazing, and wonderful. A single hand shifts easily into the shape of my vampire claw, without having to change the rest of my body. I add an extra claw to this cloven hand, and I lengthen them until they are as long as swords.

"What are my limitations?" I ask Mychala, still staring at my hand as I shift it back into a human shape.

"Very few. The Cardikamon's sole purpose is to diminish, if not obliterate, limitations. I suggest not trying to become a liquid, or a gas for that matter, but other than that, you are now a master Soul Singer. Congratulations, you're the first vampire ever to complete the Cardikamon." She says cheerfully, and the sound of clapping alerts us both to that unwelcome watcher that I had almost forgotten about. We both turn, and who should be there but Kain?

"A stunning performance, I must say." He says, leaving his shadowy hiding place to reveal himself to us. "I very much enjoyed the lyrics in particular, though I can't help but wonder if there might be a deeper purpose than entertainment."

"And just who invited you?" I demand, glaring at him and bearing my fangs even as the magma of my skin cools and I feel the power settling within me. "One would think that climbing all the way up here meant that company is less than welcome." I say, casting a small space-matter transfer spell to teleport my clothes back onto my body, preferring my black leather to that 'ceremonial garment' any day.

"Curiosity." He answers with a sly smirk. "You leave a difficult trail to follow, my dear, but a trail nonetheless. Tell me something, how is it that you have come to possess the ability to change your appearance from vampire to human and back at will? One would think with such a power, you would be at least 400 years of age, especially since you are strong enough to blithely decimate human men and women who have spent years training to hunt and kill our kind. Your strength should be better well known, and yet, I confess, I have never heard of you. Exactly who are you and, more importantly, who made you?" He asks me.

"I don't see how that's any of your business, really." I snarl. "What do you want?!"

"Such hostility. Are you always so charming or am I just special?" he asks me innocently, giving me a smirk that I _do_ not like _at all_.

"What do you want!?" I repeat.

"Not one for small-talk are you? Very well then, I want answers." He says, and his air looses the cool indifference it had earlier, and he advances with a menacing look in his eyes. "I want to know who you are and I want to know what you're doing here. I know very well you don't belong in this timeline,"

"Oh yeah? Well did you stop to consider that maybe I _am_ and I'm simply _very good_ at hiding due to my ability to shift between vampire and human forms?" I ask him.

"No, because I _know_ you're not from this timeline."

"How?" I demand.

"Because I can smell _my blood_ is in _your veins_." He snarls.

"You _what_?" I ask, completely thrown by this. "That's not possible, I wasn't sired by _you_."

"I don't believe you were, by one of my own children, no doubt, but the fact is it is my own blood I smelled when yours spilled from your body. Explain this." He tells me.

"I _can't_ explain it, there's no way that's possible unless…" Once more I hear the shattering of glass that is my world as the only possible explanation I can think of waltzes into my mind like a nuclear bomb ready to explode the moment I realize it's there. That Kain might actually be my— "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH—No!" I exclaim, suddenly realizing it's not possible, "Wait, no, I was _6 years old_, that's impossible, it couldn't have happened, there's absolutely no way!" I tell myself swiftly as Kain just stands there and stares at me, likely believing me mad. Still, with the realization that there's no _possible_ way Kain could be my father, seeing as he reawakened when I was _6_, serenity returns. But then why is Kain's blood…oh.

"I'm guessing you absorbed his blood at some point or another? A cut would be all you needed after all." Mychala Vel comes in, also looking at me strangely. "What were you thinking was the reason?" She asks me.

"Never you mind." I answer. I'm going to have nightmares for a _week_ because of this!

"'Absorbed'?" Kain demands, "Explain, _now_." He orders. But it is Mychala Vel who answers him, deciding to make her presence more firmly implanted into a situation that is going nowhere fast.

"I'll tell you what you _need_ to know, Kain." She says, her voice no longer that of an old woman, and she stands to her full and considerable height, her hair whipping back from her face as her ecliptic eyes bore into his yellow ones, freezing him right where he stands. "But no more, the rest will be up to Rayne to tell you. You are right to think she's not from this timeline, she's from another, far, far into the future, perhaps around 3 million years. The reason you don't know her is that her presence here was not ordained by the history that you know and are attempting to rewrite. Rayne is…significant in a way which not even I understand completely. Most believe that time is like a river, swiftly and perpetually flowing in one direction, but this, is not correct. Time is like an ocean in a storm with currents that move in different ways, at different points, and in different places (A/N: Cookies to whoever figures out where the metaphor came from!!). Nosgoth's entire ocean, however, is moving to an edge where it will fall to the abyss below, thus ending the ocean, and Nosgoth, once and for all. Rayne is the wall of earth that rises before the ocean reaches that edge, and directs the many currents around and back to a certain point. And in doing so, the ocean that once existed has become barren once more. Her time has been erased, the future, her history, is now ambiguous, being written, erased, and rewritten with every little change made to _this_ period of time. The trouble is that _this_ period of time _is_ much like a river, swiftly flowing in one direction, forced to be fed into the ocean where it will meet its doom. There is no telling how many times the ocean has looped. I don't possess memories from the past loops, I am simply aware of its existence, and that it is happening, has been happening, and will continue until another path is found, until a part of the guiding banks are breached and a new ocean can come of the river's flow." She explains. "Whatever she is here to do has yet to be done in spite of all the many loops of time that Nosgoth has endured. This time, however, perhaps she's better equipped."

"Because she has my blood in her veins." Kain concludes.

"You _are_ arrogant!" I snort. "_No_ because _this time_ I am a fully-fledged, and now a _master_, Soul Singer. I—" I stop, and suddenly, something I didn't realize until now has hit me, and hard. I don't say it out loud, but from the look in Mychala's eyes, she knows that I've come to the conclusion all on my own.

As a fully-fledged Soul Singer in this time, when previously I was not, I am beyond the ability of the Wheal of Fate to influence, to control.

"You what?" Kain presses, his eyes intense, staring at me, willing me to continue. "You_ what_!? What is a 'Soul Singer'!?" He demands, almost desperately as he reaches out to grab my arm. But, making my skin slick and my flesh too small for him to get a good grip on, I slip it right out and lash across his cheek, turning my hand into a blade at the last second, before bringing it back into its normal form.

"Don't touch me!" I snarl, teleporting several yards from him and glaring.

"You don't need to know what all a 'Soul Singer' is, Kain. I imagine you'll find out for yourself if you do enough digging and ask the right people." Mychala says, "Vorador, for instance, is personally familiar with our creed in particular." She adds with a wry smile.

"And hates our guts. Or _yours_ more specifically." I say, giving her a pointed glare.

"Why not tell me yourself rather than relying on an outside source to give me less-than-accurate information?" Kain asks. I can tell that he is still intimidated by Mychala Vel, and I can well understand why, but he's doing a fairly good job of hiding whatever fear he might possess.

"Now, now, Kain, we like to keep ourselves hidden, and allowing too much _accurate_ information to leek out doesn't help us stay anonymous I'm afraid. We're powerful, we're mysterious, and you're likely not going to see any Soul Singers besides myself and Rayne ever again in your lifetime. By the time they step out of the shadows they'll be calling themselves blood witches. Oh, and, before I forget." She says, turning to me, "I'm declaring you my heir, just thought you should know."

My jaw drops and I loose all composure as I stare at her, completely shocked. "Wh-wh-WHAT!?" I exclaim, unable to believe my ears.

"Well you've never been a Master Soul Singer before, and only a Master can be next in line for Matron so therefore—"

"You can't make me your heir!!" I exclaim.

"Don't you tell me what I can and can't do!" She snaps at me as if, for all the world, she's disciplining me. She even raises her staff and cracks me over the head with it. Doesn't work, it's the staff that breaks and my head is completely unscathed. "Well, that worked." She says, summoning the cracked piece and bringing it to its base so she can mend the wood by rejoining their molecules.

"I'm a vampire! I can't be the Matron of the Soul Singers!! I certainly can't imagine anyone else being happy about that!!" I argue.

"Well, hopefully before I die I'll be able to make sure you have no opposition. That's my job after all. Just make sure _you_ don't die without leaving an heir or the future blood witches will have no Matron, again. Sorry, Rayne, you're not changing my mind on this. You need as many weapons as you can possibly procure, and being the Heir Apparent is probably the greatest weapon I can give you. Not even I will live forever after all." She tells me. "Besides, the fact is you're the best fit. You're a lot more powerful than any of my other candidates, you know a large variety of magics, and several centuries of experience surviving in a far worse environment than this, and I really can't think of anyone better. Fact is, Rayne, that it's _because_ you don't _want_ the position which makes you the best fit. _I_ didn't want to be Matron, but if it hadn't been me you can guess who it would have been and where would we be if it had been _her_?" She asks me.

I cringe, "Good gods…that's a scary thought…"

"Am I to understand all candidates for this position of power, if that is, indeed, what it is, are women only?" Kain questions.

"Yeah, because only women can be Soul Singers." I answer.

"Really?" He asks, raising an eyebrow, "And what makes you believe a man couldn't do just as good, if not better, a job as a woman?" He questions.

I feel my gut twist, Kain's words repeating what I had so recently asked myself. I don't see how he could make the mistake of thinking a man could be _better_ than a woman, perhaps it's different in this past, perhaps they don't understand that the abilities of men and women are equally divided and both of our genders have the ability to look after ourselves and perform whatever task we find ourselves apt at. But the fact is, wouldn't boys be just as good as girls? Necromancy isn't a gender-specific magic, both genders can use it to equal lengths, why—

Why take my baby from me?

"_Nothing_." I hiss, glaring at him, feeling a searing hatred for everything about him burn into my eyes as they darken and my markings return, burning golden hot in my anger. Mychala Vel has turned from him, she disappears even as I go on, "Except that the magic which makes us what we are _kills_ those boys unlucky enough to be born with the ability to use it!" I snap angrily.

His blinks, eyes widening at this, "So that means—"

"Yeah, that means our sons _die_! We are robbed of half our children for this power, but I don't expect you to understand. I imagine _you'd_ consider it a fair trade if you knew _half_ of what I could do to you with it!" I snap.

"But how could you have a child? You're a vampire." Kain asks me.

"Future vampires don't have the same problems with infertility as you do. _I_ can bear children, but why bother trying when I'll ultimately have to kill my sons at birth so they don't die horribly at adolescence? Oh forget it! I don't know why I'm bothering." I say, spinning on my heel and making to stalk off into the Window World, but the next thing I know Kain has my arm again, and his grip is tight enough to break bones.

"And just where do you think you're going?" He asks me smoothly, a small smirk upon his lips.

"None of your business." I snarl.

"I think it _is_ my business, because if what your 'Matron' says is true, then I will require your presence and your power. Your very enigmatic being may be all I need, and I have a few good ideas of how to use you." He says.

"None of which are going to play out." I say, slipping out of his grip by passing into the Spectral Realm out of habit and passing back out several paces away from him. "I spent six centuries hiding from your future self Kain, and that was _before_ I became a Master Soul Singer. Do you really think you can just _use_ me like some pawn? I'll save Nosgoth _my own_ way, and whether or not I succeed this time, I'm going to make sure _you_ don't survive to instigate the future _I_ had to endure!" And with that, I disappear into the Window World and completely ignore his demands that I return that instant.

"I'll see you later." Mychala tells me, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder as I take in a deep breath.

"Yeah, okay." I say, realizing that this isn't just a goodbye, it's a promise, and I feel better for it as I prepare to go looking for Raziel now that the Cardikamon has been completed.

&  
Ending Notes and Stuff!  
&

Kioko: It does not appear as though Kain is, as many men are, a complete ignoramus when it comes to women.

Rayne: (To Rhea) YOU CAN'T MAKE ME MATRON!!

Kain: (To Kioko) To be fair, she already hated me so it's not like I had a chance to begin with.

Rhea: (To Rayne) You have to be, otherwise you won't be able to…never mind. (Looks innocent)

Kioko: (To Kain) Oh yeah? What about Umah?

Rayne: (To Rhea) What? Won't be able to _what_!?

Kain: (To Kioko) Blood Omen 2 came AFTER Soul Reaver 1 and 2, and during either game there was no mention of her whatsoever. Umah had to die because she _couldn't_ be my queen. Besides, not many people liked her in the first place so I don't see it as a loss.

Rhea: (To Rayne) Not telling!

Kioko: (To—oh you get the idea!) You're still a prick.

Rayne: _Whyyyyyy_?!

Kain: Isn't that why you love me so much? (Grins)

Rhea: Don't want to spoil the surprise!! XD

Kioko: Oh for the love of—FOR THE LAST TIME, KAIN, I AM FREAK'N HEARTLESS!! I had a surgery done to _remove_ that organ so I don't have to _deal_ with any romantic aspects of life whatsoever! I _have no sex drive_ either! So give it a rest!! Whoever fed you the baloney that I had a crush on you was LYING! I don't even have that _ability_!!

Silence…

Rayne: I started listening in at the WRONG part of THAT conversation.

Kain: You mean…you _aren't_ in love with me?

Kioko: WHAT PART OF "I AM HEARTLESS" _DON'T_ YOU UNDERSTAND!?

Kain: I thought you were just playing hard-to-get…

Kioko: (Smacks herself in the face)

Rayne: Er…so where's Raziel!? (Blatantly trying to get OFF topic)

Rhea: Over there. He made the mistake of giving into Mychala Vel and called her 'mommy' again.

Over there…

Mychala Vel: MY BABY MY BABY MY BABY MY BABY!!

Raziel: Someone kill me…

Over here…

Rayne: 0.o…

Rhea: R&R Plz!!


	12. Vorador

A/N: (Opens mouth to say something) (Is suddenly tackled by a falling anvil) _Medic…_

&

Raziel has made good progress since I left him. Unfortunately with his frequent passages into the spectral realm and back, the tracker's potency has faded, and while it isn't going to just disappear until I banish it myself, I no longer have the ability to pin-point his location. Still, I'm able to find the swamp he's in, which is good enough for the time being, but to really find him I'll need to be in the same realm as him, which means I have to leave the comfort of the Window World. As excellent as it is for hiding, it does have limitations of its own, can't exactly use magic on the physical realm from here and have it work right.

I enter the physical world in my human shape, mostly anyway. The Cardikamon has given me the ability to alter specific parts of my form, so rather than having to change everything in order to get the benefit of cloven feet, I can simply change _them_, hope no one notices, and leave the rest of my body appearing perfectly human. I admit, I would very much like to take the opportunity to better explore my new shape-changing abilities, but I figure the sooner I come face-to-face with Raziel, the better. So, I'm going to have to stick with exploiting them when it's necessary…and perhaps when it's not.

Hey, being able to turn my very _fingers_ into swords is _unbearably_ cool, so back off! And, ah, so is being able copy off of Wolverine, heheheh.

I don't wander for very long when I sense another familiar presence, though this time he doesn't bother trying to sneak up on me.

"And here I was, hoping that the Soul Singers had all died out. You chose a convenient time to resurface, and a suspicious one at that. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you, too, had something to do with the corruption of the Pillars." He says, approaching me from behind.

"It's nice to know that I'm so memorable that you recognize me after 500 years with only a short interaction to remember." I say, turning around and facing Vorador. He doesn't appear any older, to be honest, but his air is distinctly different from his more brazen past self. But in that amount of time, anything could have happened.

"I can't imagine how I could possibly have stopped thinking about it, especially after what you said before you suddenly disappeared. Do you know how long I've been searching for you? And here you are, appearing right after the corruption of the pillars when I had thought you dead." He says, approaching me, but far from being hostile as he had been, his hands are clasped behind his back and his approach bears no signs of a possible attack like last time. "And now that you're here, perhaps I can ask you not to disappear for another 500 years, at least not until you answer my questions." He says.

"Well, on the upside I know a lot more _now_ than I did _then_, but on the downside I'm still not so sure how much I should be telling you." I answer.

"Then, at the very least, explain to me the last words you said before your disappearance. I'll repeat them for you if you can't remember them, you wondered why your Matron would betray the vampires, and then you seemed to come to a conclusion, thus saying, 'because the fewer vampires there are the easier it will be for future blood witches to cure the curse that binds their souls to their bodies long after death.'" He recounts. "I'll make it easy for you, first I want to know what, exactly, a 'blood witch' is, if that isn't too much to ask."

"No, it's not. 'Blood witch' is the term used for the future generations of Soul Singers that no longer deem it necessary to operate in perpetual shadows, and thus, in Nosgoth's distant future, have become known. Though most have come to the conclusion that a 'blood witch' is simply the female term for a 'necromancer'." I explain, and Vorador lets out a derisive snorting snicker at this.

"I see, well that answers another of my questions, more if what I suspect is true. You traveled back through time, didn't you? That does explain a lot, but it doesn't explain what you are doing here, and what you are trying to accomplish with such a desperate act? A better future I suppose?" He asks.

"Typically that's what one hopes to achieve when one decides to go screwing around with time. Though that isn't always the end result." I answer.

"Clearly. So did you obtain the answers you were so eager to get that you simply disappeared without a trace from that clearing?" He asks me.

"I certainly have a much better grasp on the situation than I did." I answer, "You seem a lot more…friendly, I suppose, than the last time we met." I say.

He chuckles derisively, "The last time I saw my maker, Janos Audran, was only a day after I met you, and three years before his death at the hands of the Sarafan. I admit that I hoped to find you had gone to meet with him, though at the time I was still of half a mind to kill you. Naturally I told him about you, and he seemed to think that the existence of a vampire Soul Singer held some phenomenal significance, and he hoped very much that he would have the chance to speak with you." Vorador says, "I never knew whether he did or not, so I'll ask you now. Did you manage to speak to him before his death?" He asks.

"I haven't yet, but I'll certainly look him up if I go back to that time. Mychala Vel sent me to this future, which is why I seemed to have disappeared on you." I explain, feeling that, perhaps, _this_ Vorador I can trust. At least better than his past self.

"I guessed as much. Tell me, did she have the answers you sought? Or did you have to figure them out for yourself?" He asks me.

"She had the answers." I tell him, "At least most of them."

"And?"

"Er…and what?" I ask, not entirely sure I understand what he's asking.

He sighs, "Very well, let me ask you the question that has been bothering me for a while now. Do your people truly cure the vampire's curse, or only part of it?" He asks me.

"Only part I'm afraid, though it's likely the worst part of the curse from what I've seen. I'm not sure how, or when, the vampires reemerge, because at one time they were all thought to be dead. Somehow they come back as a new generation, a third generation, I suppose, and they lack the harsher aspects of the curse. Unfortunately there are only a few blood—er, Soul Singers to perform the task, and in order for it to be properly executed, there needs to be as few vampires as possible, so that they can all be semi-cured and the no more vampires need suffer after death. The infertility is fixed, though partially." I answer.

"Explain." He says, with his eyebrows raised.

"The future breed of vampires can only bear vampire children by mating with humans. The upside is that half-breeds are a rarity because they are either fully human, or fully vampire. The downside is that, while gender is dependant on the father, race is dependant on a mother, meaning you can only get a vampire child out of a vampire mother." I tell him.

"But, apparently, the half-breeds _do_ occur, and I'm guessing that's what _you_ are. You with your ability to use human-specific magic and shift your appearance between that of a human and that of a vampire." He says, and I nod.

"We're called Dhampirs." I tell him, "I have all the vampire strengths, the power, the speed, the dark gifts, but none of the weaknesses, added to this the ability to use magic or telekinetic powers specific to either race, and I'd say having slightly less power than I might if I were a full vampire is an adequate price. And, of course, this is how I can be both a vampire and a Soul Singer at once." I tell him.

"This does explain much. So tell me, what is your future like, or do I want to know?" He asks.

"Bad enough that I'd just go jumping back a few million years with absolutely _no idea_ what I'm getting myself into." I answer him.

"Pretty bad then." Vorador says, and I watch him as he paces around me, not quite trusting him at my back. "Perhaps I should be more…excited, I suppose, at the thought of the time-streaming power Moebius prides himself on is in the hands of another, of someone outside his control, of anyone's control, for that matter. But whatever happened in the past, whether you do end up going back in time or not, doesn't seem to have made a difference. Perhaps I'm simply impatient, and perhaps I simply don't care so much whether this past is changed or not. If in the future the vampire race is still alive and strong, even if I don't live to see it, I can be content knowing that in spite of Moebius's best efforts, he did not fully succeed in the task he set out to accomplish with such fervor. You may be the answer to our prayers, but I've long since stopped putting faith in something that has not happened yet. The way I see it, this world is beyond redemption either way, but if you can prove me wrong, _do it_." He says.

"Gladly." I say, and, for the first time, Vorador smiles, and he chuckles with some humor.

"I've been following a certain creature of interest. He seems to have appeared not long before you, and I watched him emerge from Moebius's accursed keep. His appearance in the clearing with the Nine Pillars marked their corruption, but I suspect you already knew this." He tells me.

"I have the sneaking suspicion you're talking about the guy I'm looking for." I answer. "Blue skin, skeletal figure, glowing eyes, and a scarf wrapped around the majority of his face, most likely hiding a lack of lower jaw?" I ask.

"Why am I not surprised you know him? Well you're certainly on the right track." He tells me. "I'd ask you what his purpose here is, but I think I'd rather hear it from him, and stay ignorant of whether or not I'm right in thinking he's a product of _your_ influence." He says.

I snort, "I'm not sure whether to be flattered you think I'm that powerful, or insulted that you think I'd _use_ my power like that." I say, and I am rewarded with a chuckle.

"That you admit you _aren't_ is a comfort, to be sure. But you'll excuse me if I remain wary and less-than friendly towards you because of the power that you _do_ have, whether you choose to use it a certain way or not." He says.

"Ha! Compared to what I'm use to, the fact that you're not trying to kill me is considered 'friendly'." I say.

"Perhaps if I thought I could, I still might. But I've seen what a single drop of your power can accomplish, and I am not so foolish as that. Still, I'll wish you luck, at the very least. If you can, indeed, save this world, I'm not going to be the one who stops you and ruins Nosgoth's last chance for survival." He tells me, and with that, he disappears.

Having the sneaking suspicion that he knows where Raziel is, and is headed that way to confront him for one reason or another, I decide to pass into the Window World, and I follow the momentary traces left by his teleportation.

I get there just in time.

&

"You're a ragged excuse for a savior." Vorador says by way of greeting, and I can't help but look at him with confusion as I arrive on the scene just after Raziel has opened another of those double-doors with the winged beings depicted upon them. Savior, huh? I suspect this probably has something to do with the destiny that was forced on Raziel when he didn't die at birth like he was suppose to.

"Vorador." Raziel says.

"I see my reputation precedes me."

"It does."

"All good I hope?" He asks, and he steps forward, "I've been watching you since you emerged from that accursed stronghold, strange that your arrival coincides with the corruption of the Pillars. But I'm wondering, are you the catalyst of these events, or the answer to them?" He questions.

"I _don't_ know what you mean." Raziel replies, standing there stoically while Vorador circles him like a hawk.

"I will speak plainly then. I distrust your origins, Stranger. Seeing you crawl from the putrid depths of Moebius's keep, makes me question your purpose here. And what should I make of your appearance? Not human, clearly, and more demon than vampire. And the Pillars; it is no mere coincidence that your arrival in that clearing heralded the Pillars' decay. And so I ask you plainly, are you the instrument of the Pillars' destruction, or their salvation?" He asks.

Raziel's eyes narrow intently, "_Neither_." He answers.

Vorador looks slightly taken aback, "Very well. Let us look at the other side of the coin." Gaaaah, not that stupid coin metaphor again! Give it a _rest_, for the love of mercy!! "I have followed your journey and watched as you blithely unlock secrets that have been sealed and forbidden for thousands of years. The path you are trading is open only to one being." He says, "You don't know _what_ you are, do you?"

Oh yeah, and _he_ does?

"I have been many things, if you find me ignorant, enlighten me." Raziel says, but Vorador just laughs.

"What's the point?" He asks, turning his back to Raziel, "This world is beyond redemption! Let the human cattle have it." He declares.

"I would expect better than meek capitulation from you." Raziel says.

"Centuries of persecution have taught me well." He retorts bitterly, "500 years ago our race was nearly exterminated by the fanatical crusades of the Sarafan. And now the same sick drama unfolds again. In merely a decade Moebius's cutthroat citizen army has nearly accomplished what the Sarafan could not. Vampires meddling in the affairs of men, look where it's brought us!" He says contemptuously.

"What am I to make of these secrets I've uncovered, then?" Asks Raziel, "The depiction of the winged race, the Pillars, and the Reaver?"

"Fairy tales boy!" Vorador snorts, "The delusions of an ancient culture, clinging to hope long after the world had discarded them. Their bloodline trickled away, until only one of the ancients remained. Sustained solely by obligation and his unfaltering faith in the old prophesies. But you see, even if you are who you appear to be, it no longer matters. You're simply _too late_." He says, and I sense something a bit deeper in his tone. Does he know I've followed him? How could he? Or perhaps, he simply expects that I have and am able to. Does he know of my ability to spy on the physical world without truly existing in it? "Janos Audran, the Reaver Guardian, the last of the Ancients, and my maker, was murdered by the Sarafan nearly 5 centuries ago. He alone would have the answers you seek, but his secrets died with him.

"I don't know how you've come even this far without his guidance," He continues, "Or without the Reaver." He _is_ the Reaver I'm afraid. "Stolen these 500 years ago by the Sarafan. I'm afraid, my friend, that you, and all of us, are out of luck. However, I have recently come across an interesting phenomenon. Tell me, do you know who the Soul Singers are?" He asks.

"The _what_?" Raziel asks, and Vorador chuckles.

"I didn't think so. They like to stay hidden beneath the shadows, but the marks of their influence saturate our history in ways you wouldn't believe. The vampire's curse, the ability to perpetuate our race through humans, the summoning of the pillars, the creation of the Reaver itself, and even the downfall of the Ancients' race. They are almost like gods in human flesh, and I imagine I'm one of the few who know they even exist. I doubt even Moebius and Mortanius are aware, themselves, of how they came to obtain the knowledge of time-travel and necromancy, or why." He says.

"And you think these 'Soul Singers' gave them that knowledge?" Asks Raziel without much conviction.

Again, Vorador laughs, "I don't _think_, Stranger, I _know_. Only they would have the ability to obtain, and to divulge, such knowledge. For a long time I've seen neither hide nor hair of them, and I had dared to hope they finally died out. But perhaps it is simply that most of them have become even _more_ secretive and detached from us mere mortals than they were before. You can never find a Soul Singer if they don't want to be found, they have ways of hiding beneath existence itself. There could be thousands of them wandering around and you'd never even know they were there. The phenomenon I am speaking of is a certain Soul Singer I had the, ah, _pleasure_ of running into some 500 years ago, 3 years before Janos Audran's death. I found her again, wandering around this very swamp. I think she's looking for something, possibly _you_." He says.

Son of a b(beep)! You know very well I am!

"Are you telling me this to put me on my guard? Do you think _she_ has something to do with the Pillars' corruption?" Raziel asks.

"Not she specifically, no, I don't believe so. She claims to have traveled back in time from the future some million years from now to save Nosgoth from whatever bleak state it will be in _her_ time." He answers, and Raziel's eyes grow wide with shock. "So no, whatever is going on now, her hands, in particular, are clean of it, if she's telling the truth that is, and it's an incredible lie if she isn't." He says.

"How can I find her?" Raziel asks.

Vorador chuckles, "Simple, let _her_ find _you_." He says, and with that he teleports from the scene.

Unexpectedly, it seems, Vorador has done me quite the favor. For now Raziel knows about me, and is, in fact, going to go looking for me for whatever reason. I guessed curiosity would be the biggest reason, but it's likely _he_ will have just as many questions for me as Vorador.

I just hope I can answer them all without breaking my promise to Mychala Vel.

&  
Ending Notes and Stuff  
&

Rhea: (Clawing at the ground from beneath the anvil) Can someone please help me out of here?

Rayne: How is she not dead? Oh, right, dragon…

Vorador: Is _that_ the authoress?

Kioko: No, that's an anvil on _top_ of the authoress.

Rhea: Hello?

Raziel: Let's leave her there.

Kioko: Won't stop her from writing I'm afraid.

Raziel: D(beep)it!!

Vorador: (Kicks anvil off Rhea) I have a bone to pick with you.

Rhea: Is it a wishbone?

Vorador: No, it's sharp and pointy and has spikes on it.

Rayne: Yeah, that's what my bone looks like. Wait in line bud.

Vorador: (Ignores her) I've been looking at these drafts of yours and—

Rayne: !.! How'd you get those!? I've been looking for them all over the place!!

Vorador: I have my ways, anyway, I was looking through them and I noticed—

Rhea: NO YOU CAN'T REVEAL ANYTHING BAD VAMPIRE!! (Tackles Vorador and sits on him with her foot keeping his face pressed against the carpet) By the way, has anyone seen Kain? He's been missing since the last chapter.

Rayne: He's probably somewhere sulking.

Rhea: Sul-king? Is that even possible for Kain?

Rayne: No, but neither is suddenly falling in almost-love with a witch just because he gets the impression _she_ likes _him_ and is simply using the 'heartless' excuse to play hard-to-get. (Pointed look)

Rhea: (Grins sheepishly) Okay, so he's a little OOC in these ending notes…

Rayne: A _little_?

Rhea: But if he wasn't I'd probably be dead by now so there's a reason for it!

Raziel: This is certainly true…

Rhea: And now, since I don't think I've done this yet and I really can't go any longer without, it is time for me to express my affection for a certain character developed by Crystal Dynamics…(Lets out fangirlish squeal and glomps Raziel)

Raziel: GAH!! HELP ME!!

Kioko: (Sigh) R&R I guess…


	13. Through His Eyes

A/N: AND NOW! THE CHAPTER YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!!

Dun, dun, DUN!!

(Sorry it took so long - -')

&

Well, I lost him. I was following him into that temple thing, and I completely lost him. I have since passed back into the physical world, hoping to get a lock on his location this way, either that or make sure _he_ sees _me_, but the fact is I completely lost him. I had a tracker and everything, he was _right in front of me_, but no, I _had_ to screw this up, just _had_ to.

I am considering what I'm going to do now, as well as what I'm going to say to him when I _do_ come face-to-face with him in the physical world. For some reason, I really want him to trust me, and I want to be able to trust him. I'd be lying if I didn't say Raziel fascinated me, both for what he was as well as _who_ he was, and what we might have had…together. And, I suppose, a part of me feels drawn to him, not by our connection, but more simply because he was Mychala Vel's _son_. The son that was suppose to die, but didn't because she would rather turn him into a deity than kill him.

It is for this reason, as well as the other, that I find myself desperately wanting to befriend him, to get to know him, as if he might somehow ease the still-lingering pain of my own losses, of having to leave his human past self, and of being forced to murder my own son before he had even taken his first breath. Just because he was a boy.

It isn't fair, it just isn't fair! It isn't as though boys would make bad blood witches! If they _could_ use the magic without it destroying them, wouldn't they be just as good at it as women? Why is it that boys can't simply cut themselves every month and allow blood to flow that way? Small, controlled cuts with just a small amount of blood, that would work, wouldn't it? That would be an adequate sacrifice, right?

At the very least, why rob us of our sons? Why must they die even though their blood magic is kept dormant?

It's not a fair sacrifice, not when the child's only sin is that they weren't born a girl.

_Sigh_, I've been through this so many times, trying to think of the reasons, trying to think of alternatives. Maybe if there was a way to remove the ability, or at least make it permanently dormant…

I am so lost in my own thoughts that, for a moment, I simply stare blankly without really seeing as a dark force fluctuates in the air before me, blocking the path with distinctive patterns upon the energy field.

I feel the blood leaving my face as I slowly recognize the symbols, and electricity strikes the ground all around me and something rises forth from another realm. From _the_ other realm.

Demons, they're demons with _flesh_. They're _demons_.

Oh god, oh god, oh— "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!"

&  
Raziel's POV (Because I can!!)  
&

I have been wandering for a time, knowing where I need to go. I remember the door with the symbol of the dark forge upon it, and now that I have the means to enter that door, I must find it. But I am reluctant to leave the swamp before meeting this 'Soul Singer' from the future that Vorador told me of. If Vorador was telling the truth, and while I did not trust him fully I had little reason to believe he would lie, then she might at least have some of the answers that I seek. I just hope that, whether I find her or she finds me, I will know her when I see her. Vorador did not bother to tell me what she looks like, though I'm hoping there will be distinct enough features that will make it more or less apparent she does not belong in this time.

I have to admit that I am curious, if these Soul Singers are like gods as Vorador claims, then why is it they would allow Nosgoth to descend into such madness? Unless, that is their intention, but if that were true it seems one of their kind has separated from the herd and has come back in time to stop this from happening.

Whoever this Soul Singer is, I need to find her.

Suddenly, inexplicably, I feel a sense of dread wash over me, so intense that I freeze on the spot for a moment and I look around, trying to understand where this sensation is coming from. I look at my hand. The Reaver has materialized of its own volition, but why? What's going on? Is this dread emitting from the wraith blade? That seems the only explanation, but, why—

I hear a scream, and suddenly that feeling of dread intensifies. The Reaver is refusing to disappear again, even with a conscious effort on my part. It jerks, and the familiar sensation of my self-control being sucked from me washes over; the Reaver is forcefully pulling me in the direction of the scream. I begin to run.

I cannot imagine why the Reaver is so insistent upon answering the scream, nor can I explain why it is that I feel an intense need to comply with the Reaver's silent command. But I do, and I am running, faster than I can remember ever running before, to find the scream.

I am suddenly looking down upon a clearing, and I know this is where that scream came from, and also where the feeling of dread originated.

A woman, youthful, with long red hair and fare skin is frozen, a look of blank fear on her face, as no less than 12 beasts are advancing upon her. I have never seen such creatures before, not in this timeline, no. They are great demonic beasts of fire, and there are so many, far, far too many. The girl has good reason to be afraid, but against such odds, there is nothing I can do. Not against 12 at once.

And yet I cannot simply stand by. Not because of any moral obligation, no, but because, somehow, I know, without a doubt, that _this_ is the Soul Singer that Vorador told me about. And I can _not let her die_. It is as though the whole world might simply end here and now if she were to be vanquished. What is more, the Reaver is once again attempting to take control, not caring about the odds, it seems, not caring about its host either, but caring solely for the survival of this girl.

I jump from the edge, landing in front of the girl who has backed against a wall of earth, I face the beasts. For the first time, I feel a stab of fear. Not for my own well-being, no, but because I know that, when they defeat me here, I may not be able to return from the spectral realm to the physical realm in time to save the girl.

I discard this fear. I must focus, fear will do me no good.

I can_not_ loose.

&  
Rayne's POV (Because…well, she's the main character, duh.)  
&

I'm paralyzed, I can't think, I can hardly move. My feet move of their own accord, back, back until I feel the earth behind my back and I can go no further. My mind is refusing to work, and my body is trembling while my legs are threatening to give out beneath me.

I, am, _terrified_, of _demons_!!

Okay, everyone is afraid of _something_ in spite of the fact that they can deal with it quite easily. Some people are afraid of spiders even though smashing your fist down, hard, is enough to kill even one as big as a tarantula. Some people are afraid of cockroaches, some people are afraid of clowns, natural disasters that don't happen anymore, of heights, of being stuck in tightly closed spaces, of being stuck in wide open spaces, or of the dentist, when the world still had the luxury of dentists. The thing is most of these things, while the fear is justified, can still be dealt with, making such a fear unreasonable.

The fear of demons is my unreasonable fear, because while most people would be afraid of them because, well, they're demons, they're strong, scary, and mean. Me? I'm a blood witch, summoning and banishing demons should be easy for me, right? So I shouldn't be so afraid of them, right? Well, unfortunately, no. Demons are my cockroaches. I can_not_ stand them, and they scare the _crap_ out of me no matter _how_ many times I tell myself I'm a blood witch and _they_ should be more afraid of _me_.

These demons are _clearly_ not afraid of me, and they are _clearly_ going to kill me. It's like having a bunch of huge cockroaches coming after you, and while you've got the can of mega bug-spray in your hand, you're too terrified to use it. I know I'm going to die if I don't snap out of it. My unreasonable fear could actually _kill_ me, whereas all a cockroach can really do is crawl up your leg and lay eggs in your ear. And while that's incredibly disgusting, it's not life-threatening! A cotton swab and some rubbing alcohol is all you need, but for this?

Well, my voice is my alcohol and my blood implement is my cotton swab, but while they're both on the table next to me, I can't get over my fear long enough to snatch them up and use them.

And then _he_ shows up.

Oh no, oh _gods_ no! I don't care how powerful he is! You can't hope to win against 12 demons using bruit force!! What the crap is he _thinking_!?

Probably that I have an even less chance of surviving. Which, wouldn't be true, except for my overwhelming panicked fear! And in any case, he can't be killed…right?

His wraith blade resonates as he hacks at the closest of the demons, trying to finish it off swiftly before the others get here. They're not exactly smart when it comes to battle, they don't gang up on him at once, but there are too many for _all_ of them to just stand there and watch. Others are moving forward, their intention to get rid of the irritant in their midst, while others are now deciding I look more appetizing.

Oh gods, I'm going to die if I don't get a hold of myself!!

I summon my blood implement into my hand, and let the handle fall until I am holding the end of my own rope of hair. I begin to spin it about, and the implement begins to sing, crafting music of multiple instruments, coming together to join my voice as I let it resonate powerfully about the clearing.

_Denying, the lying, a million children fighting  
For lies, inside, for hope beyond the horizon  
A dead world, a dark path, not even crossroads to choose from  
All the blood-red carpets before me, behold this fair creation of god!_

Immediately as my voice joins the implement's music, the demons are momentarily frozen, clasping great cloven hands to the sides of their horned heads and crying out in an attempt to block the music. It isn't as much of an effect as I was hoping for, but it gives Raziel the chance he needs. He defeats two of the demons, and jumps back to pull his scarf down with one hand and suck their souls into his body for nourishment, strengthening his weakened body and returning him to greater health. But the music's paralyzing effect is only momentary. The demons are fighting against it.

Raziel is going to need help.

_My only wish, to leave behind all the days, of the earth  
This everyday, hell of my, kingdom come_

It takes every ounce of self control I have to fight against my panicked fear and jump into the fray, swinging my implement to strike out directly at these demons' physical bodies. I catch one across the chest with a swing of my implement. The wound seers it, and the potent green blood gushes out, becoming soaked into the implement which begins to resonate powerfully with the new kind of blood that it has now devoured. But something else happens as well. Some of that blood has gone to _me_.

And suddenly, I realize why tradition dictates the combining of one's hair with one's implement. The Cardikamon has given me the ability to change my shape as well as anything that is apart of me. My hair is apart of me, and it has been bound to the implement through a ritual sacrifice that connects the two in more than just a physical way. My implement is now apart of me, and my hair is no longer bound to its original form.

_The first rock, thrown again, welcome to hell little saint  
__Mother Gaia, in slaughter, welcome to paradise soldier  
My first cry, never-ending, all life is to fear for life  
You fool, you wanderer, you challenged the gods and lost_

My hair has become a chain of metallic properties, no longer limited in its length, I am able to swing it about with control as though it were an extended limb. It has sunk into my wrist, attaching my implement directly to my body. Years of survival have taught me how to take up a new weapon and learn to use it swiftly, but this has to be the easiest and most devastating weapon I've ever had to learn in the space of about one second. In fact, its use almost comes naturally to me, and as my voice continues to remain strong and constant throughout the battle, my implement's song continues as well even as it lashes out to strike the demons directly in a deadly dance.

_Save yourself, a penny for the ferryman  
__Save yourself but let them suffer!  
In hope, in love, this world an't ready for the ark_

_Save yourself, a penny for the ferryman  
Save yourself but let them suffer!  
In hope, in love, mankind works in mysterious ways!_

_(Song called Planet Hell by Nightwish)_

"You appear well equipped to deal with this yourself!" Raziel shoots at me after taking in the souls of several demons at once, even as their blood soaks into my body, infusing me with that much more power.

"I am f(beep)ing _terrified_ of demons, okay!?" I yell back at him as the song I sing breaks from lyrics and enters into a more instrumental part which the blood implement handles.

All 12 of the demons have been vanquished, and I allow the song to die away, drawing the implement into my hand, and watching, with some fascination, as the blade itself sinks into my flesh, becoming apart of me, just as the sunstone ring has become apart of me as well, waiting to be called back into being when I have need of it.

Our reprieve is short-lived.

_Twice_ as many demons as before, all of the same ilk, rise from strikes of lightening, completely surrounding us. My implement is back in my hand, as is Raziel's wraith blade. "And this is why!" I say, my voice betraying the fear that I am truly feeling right now.

"There's too many!" Raziel hisses, "Do you not know a more powerful spell?" He asks me as we find ourselves back-to-back.

"Plenty, but none that would work on so many at once!" I answer, doing my best to get a hold of myself. I'd suggest that we pass into the spectral realm to escape it, but demons, even with physical bodies, can exist in both realms at once, and taking Raziel into the Window World would just be _asking_ for trouble. As a human, he would have been able to make the trip without a flicker due to Mychala's treatment of his infant body, but as a wraith there's no telling _what_ might happen to him.

And then I remember the Shaman's Eye. Do I dare? Do I have a choice?

I remember how, before, that light had reached out to me, almost longingly, trying desperately to become apart of me, but there was a barrier. My body could not accept that energy in its original form. Not _then_. But now? Now, it _can_, because my body is no longer a barrier, a limitation. I had undergone the Cardikamon, my body is now fit for that power.

I 'sheathe' my implement and reach out behind me to nudge Raziel on the shoulder in order to get his attention. "Give me your hand." I tell him.

"What? Why?" He demands, turning to look at me through burning blue eyes.

"You—never mind, I don't have time to explain! Just give it to me!" I say, and I reach out to take his left hand, the one without the wraith blade, and I grasp the claw tightly.

A connection, strong, and powerful, passes between us at the touch. Raziel hisses with shock, registering it, and he stares at me with wide eyes as his claw seems to involuntarily close over my small, human hand.

I feel it again, that monumental force slumbering, dormant, hidden beneath the surface, beneath a barrier of glass. It is different from the last time, it seems to be somehow more powerful, and yet less active, less responsive, and yet it somehow seems to recognize me, like its opening a single eye to look at me, waiting for me to tell it to wake up. I still do not entirely understand what it is, I have only heard the legends of the Shaman's Eye, and so I seem to be acting on pure instinct as I sing a chant in Hametsu, bidding the power to wake.

It does so, but the shell in which it slumbers is only that, a shell, in order to be awake, in order to be used, to be accessed, it must have a more malleable body, a body that is devoid of the limitations a physical form is typically struck with. A body which has undergone the Cardikamon.

That power flows into me like the blood of the earth, but this is something more enormous than that, and its influence is soaked into my body, into my blood, and the markings upon my flesh, those which burned the golden fire of the earth's blood now change their color from that fierce orange-gold to a red, and then a violet. But I am not a sink for that power, I am not its shell, its host, I am its conductor, it's temporary holder and user. The power must be focused, used, directed.

But I don't know _how_!!

I panic for an instant, but then I hear a song. Time passes slowly outside my body, the demons are advancing inches a minute. The song, sung in Hametsu, speaks into my mind, conveying knowledge in a way simple words just can't. I'm not even sure it's speaking in any language, even Hametsu, it is simply singing, and I am understanding. But what I am understanding becomes difficult to decipher until I mentally request knowledge of how this power can be used.

Such knowledge is flushed into my mind like a wave of seawater, and I find myself pulling away from that song, returning to normal time speed, and raising my hands into the air.

&  
Raziel's POV (Because he rocks! That's why!!)  
&

As I struggle a futile battle against the beasts, attempting to lay waste to _one_ so that I might use its soul to replenish my health, music reaches my ears, but I resist the temptation to look for its source. Any loss of focus can cost me dearly.

But then a voice joins the music, a strong, carrying voice, melodious, and beautiful, but fierce at the same time. This voice holds power, purpose, and though a distant part of me wishes to enjoy the novelty I have not experienced in centuries, I cannot pause for a single moment, in fact, I do not feel tempted to. A force wells up inside of me, I feel energized, encouraged to fight, and, in a strange way, strengthened. But while this song seems to be _helping_ me, the demons have clutched their heads and have begun to howl with pain. Two fall to the Reaver easily now, and their souls replenish my lost and nearly-failing health.

So _this_ is why they are called the Soul Singers.

Encouraged, perhaps, by my recklessness, the Soul Singer herself has joined the fight. My first reaction is to turn and caution her against the action, but my warning dies in my throat when I see her fully.

Dots of red, rimmed with violet on a black background are her eyes, and upon her flesh are intricate markings, glowing fiercely, the color of hot gold. Her hair flies in the air as though gravity has no more hold upon it than reality upon her. From her hand swings a large dagger-like object at the end of a rope…no, a chain! And while it appears minuscule and of little consequence at first, its damage is shocking. It is vampiric somehow, for the demon blood, once spilled, is soaked into that red-bladed dagger.

I do not have the luxury of watching, for I have a battle of my own to fight, but all too soon it is plane to me that this woman did not need my help to begin with. I feel some anger welling up inside of me, was this a trick? Had she feigned helplessness in order to draw me out like this for some reason?

She does not seem to be fighting, instead dancing with that chain whipping out and lashing devastating blows upon our monstrous enemies. And all the while her voice has not once faltered, and that strange music, which seems to be emanating from her weapon as it swings through the air in a dance of its own, continues to resonate. Her song is fierce, and the lyrics are chillingly dark.

I await a break in her music. "You appear well equipped to deal with this yourself!" I snarl at her, making sure there is little to no doubt of my outrage.

Her response is the last thing I expected, "I am f(beep)ing _terrified_ of demons, okay!?" She cries. Away from the purpose of her song, her voice is no longer fierce, no longer commanding and powerful, no longer matching her appearance and liken unto a goddess. There is panic in that voice, there is the humanity of a young girl's fears. She is honestly frightened of these creatures, even as we decimate the last of them and I draw their souls into my body for nourishment.

I cannot honestly say her terror is disheartening, in fact, I find it a bit of a relief. Here I was picturing this omnipotent being in a woman's body, and she panics at the sight of demons. How ironic, but perhaps these Soul Singers are not as all-powerful as Vorador seems to think.

I intend to question her, but I realize that something is wrong when I notice the barriers have not yet gone. Indeed, more demons arise, circling us completely, and I hear the Soul Singer's gasp of fear, "And this is why!" She says, her voice now even more frightened than it was before.

Wonderful, now would be a good time to have a goddess at my back, and she's terrified like some mortal child.

"There's too many!" I say, counting twice the amount we had just now finished off. "Do you not know a more powerful spell!?" I demand of her.

"Plenty, but none that would work on so many at once!" She answers.

Fantastic.

As I attempt to think of a way out of this predicament while our assailants slowly close the circle, apparently lavishing in their supposed triumph, I feel her nudge my shoulder to get my attention. Slightly surprised that she would dare touch _me_ when she is so terrified of demons, I turn as she says, "Give me your hand."

"What?" She's serious? "Why?" I ask.

"You—never mind, I don't have time to explain! Just give it to me!" She answers, and her left hand reaches out to take my own.

I suck in my breath as something, strong, powerful, like a bond, a, _connection_ snaps into place through the contact of our flesh. A familiarity, strong, unique, _intense_, and I suddenly find myself staring at this girl with a powerful feeling of recognition. I know her, I _know_ her, but my mind is unwilling, or unable, to grasp her face, to put a name to it, to remember _where_ and _when_ from which I have seen her. How do I know her? And what is this, this bond between us? What is connecting the two of us so powerfully, so intensely that, somehow, I had felt it even before our hands connected?

My cloven hand closes over hers of its own volition, protective, almost, and unwilling to let go, to release her. I watch as her eyes become unfocused, as though she is staring at something I cannot see, and from her lips a song of a language I have never heard bursts forth in swift, high notes.

I don't understand what happens, but suddenly her flesh erupts with those markings, and they begin to burn even more fiercely. Her eyes, blackened into their other state, grow wide, blank, unseeing, and then they change. The black seems to become even darker than before, and it engulfs the whole eye even as I am watching. I call out to her, I try to take my hand back, but even if my own hand were willing to let go of hers, her grip is like stone, something more powerful than just her hand is keeping us connected, and that powerful sense of familiarity washes over me, and in my mind I hear something like a cry, a scream of pain and longing, and a word, a name, _"Rayne!"_

I have seen eclipses of the sun many times in my life, but not one of those times compares to the rings which appear in her eyes. They burn violet, like the hottest part of a flame, they fluctuate, flicking out, moving in, and going out again in spikes like jagged flames.

She stands there for but a moment, a moment in which I have lost my breath, and then her hand slips from my own, and both of them raise into the air as the gold burn of her markings darkens to red, and then to a violet.

Her hands come down before her, with middle finger and thumb touching tips in duel circles. Her voice erupts, singing once more, but in that strange language, as fierce and powerful as before when her lyrics were in English, but, somehow, far more terrifying than mortal language could ever be.

From between her hands a sphere appears, surrounded by a halo of the same kind of markings that adorn her body, but the sphere's color is a fierce blue. All at once those same blue markings burn upon the demons' flesh. They all roar with agony, and they melt, they simply melt, burning, crumbling into ashes, into nothing. Only their souls remain, but I have had my fill and I take only one.

They are all gone, the barriers have dissipated, and that strange haloed orb has disappeared, along with the markings upon the Soul Singer's body. "Is that…all of them?" She asks, heaving with exertion.

"Yes." I answer her, confident that _this time_ we, or rather, _she_, has finished them.

"Oh thank god!!" She gasps, crumbling into the hysterical heap that she likely wanted to sink into in the first place, but somehow managed to resist during the actual danger.

I don't know why, but the sight of this woman, who had just eradicated two dozen demons in one go with a display of impossible power, kneeling down with her hands over her head, shaking with barely-controlled hysterics, is the most amusing thing I've seen thus far. I cannot stop the chuckle from escaping my throat, and the look I receive when the Soul Singer's head shoots round to glare at me does _not_ help. "And here I had the impression that the Soul Singers were gods in mortal flesh." I say, unable to contain my amusement.

"_That_," She says contemptuously, "Is an unfair and thoroughly exaggerated metaphor! Who the hell fed you _that_ baloney?!" She demands indignantly.

"Vorador." I answer, deciding it couldn't hurt to tell her.

"_Ah_, well, the only Soul Singer _he's_ ever really come into contact with besides me is the Matron of this timeline, and while _she_ might seem like a goddess in human flesh, the rest of us are not as omnipotent, or as old for that matter." She tells me pointedly. "And, and _I hate demons_! Okay!?" She exclaims, "Some people are afraid of cockroaches, some are afraid of spiders, snakes, bats, rats, and even teddy bears. Me? My fear is _demons_! Give me wraiths, slugha, geists, and vampires _any day_! But _not demons_!! I'd rather go head-to-head with Kain in the north pole armed with nothing more than a bikini and tooth picks than have to face that many demons _ever again_!!" She cries.

"What is a—never mind." I say, having the sneaking suspicion that I don't really _want_ to know what a 'bikini' is. "You'd have a much better chance of survival against a demon than Kain with those odds." I point out. "In fact, I don't really understand how you can be so afraid of them with the kind of power you just used." I tell her.

"Oh gods, that wasn't _my_ power, that was _yours_, I only _borrowed_ it. And if you must know," She says, standing up and turning to face me. Her cheeks are red with embarrassment, even as her eyes, thankfully returned to their original violet color, bore into mine with a defiant, though slightly ashamed expression, "When I was little I had this…this _doll_ that my mother made for me before she died. I kept it with me all the time and, well, my master didn't really approve of it so in order to wean me off it, she, she…she-called-a-demon-to-possess-it-and-ever-since-then-I've-been-mortally-afraid-of-demons!" She says, finishing that last part swiftly as though admitting it as quick as possible will make it less mortifying.

If I had a gut, it likely would have exploded by now with the effort of trying _not_ to laugh, as it is, the laughter comes, and I simply cannot _help it_! And her cry of, "IT'S NOT FUNNY!!" Only serves to increase my amusement as I am unable to rid myself of the mental image of a little red-haired girl talking to her doll and then having the doll talking _back_ to her all of a sudden.

"Grrr, stop laughing!!" She orders, and she actually attempts to tackle me, but all she really manages to do is grab me around the neck from the side and make a valiant effort to strangle me, in spite of the fact that I have no lungs. "_You'd_ have been scared too if _you_ were playing with your doll and all the sudden she goes 'A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ah'!" She says, imitating a sort of clicking noise that sound almost like someone attempting to breath when their neck has been broken. "And then is _looking_ at you and grinning and giggling in a high-pitch girly voice one moment then telling you you're going to die in 7 days with a hissing whisper the next!! DEMONS ARE CREEPY OKAY!? Sure the males are easier to handle than the females, BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT!!" She cries.

"And yet, you don't appear to fear _me_ at all, do you?" I ask, wondering when she's going to realize that her 'strangling' is nothing more than a slightly annoying embrace that is forcing me to keep a hand on my scarf least she manages to pull it down.

"Yeah, nice try, but I know a demon when I see one and you are _not it_." She tells me, and now I am curious.

"Then, what is it do you think I am?" I ask, deciding to remove her arms from my neck, if only to satisfy her wish to, at the very least, be annoying enough I manually push her away. She neither resists this, nor does she attempt to snatch her hands from my grasp. Perhaps for this reason I let them go, though we are still in close enough proximity I can snatch them back if I feel she is about to try and run. I feel the urge to take them back anyway, the wish to…to hold them, to hold _her_, to be in physical contact with her. But, this is feeling is absurd! I push it away, and it seems to leave without much effort.

She does not make an attempt to escape, however, instead the indignant youth she was seems to disappear from her expression. Is that…pity I see in her eyes? No, not quite pity…it's something else, something I don't quite understand. "There…isn't exactly a _name_ for what you are." She admits, and my eyes widen upon her.

"So you know? You truly know? Am I, then, a product of one of _your_ people? Did one of _them_ do this to me?" I demand, anger welling up inside me as I take a step forward, nearly closing what little space there was to begin with. She, however, does the sensible thing and backs away, increasing our proximity, but I continue to advance, watching her in case she decides to run.

"You're an, an _Undying_." She tells me, "No one made you what you are, you are like that because you cannot be killed." She says, and I stop, staring at her.

"Are you saying that _I_ am responsible for my own wretched form?" I ask, but again she shakes her head.

"I wouldn't really put it that way, but it is your own power that makes you virtually immortal." She admits, and something she said earlier suddenly flashes back into my mind.

"Wait a moment, you said that it was _my_ power you used to destroy the demons, is that true? How can that be possible when I felt nothing, no draining of my strength in any way?!" I demand.

"It…it's not, well, the thing is, you can't use it yourself." She tells me, "I'm not entirely sure why it's like that, I only, well, I sort of already knew it existed, so I took advantage of it because I couldn't see any other way out of our predicament. Basically it's a power that you carry, but that you can't use. You're like the shell, the bearer of it, and while that power belongs to you and you alone, you are not…_equipped_ with the ability to awaken it or to use it. It needs a different body, one with the ability to temporarily hold it in its awakened form and then use it. I acted like the bucket that dipped into your well of power and brought it out because you can't do it yourself for some reason." She explains. Then she pauses, as though deciding on something, and then asks me, "Where did you _get_ that kind of power anyway?" she asks.

"If I didn't know I _possessed_ it in the first place, how am I suppose to know where I got it?" I ask her.

"Touché." She responds, "Still, I only just scratched the surface of what you have sleeping inside of you, and while I'm likely one of the only ones who can awaken it, much less _use_ it, I wouldn't suggest telling a whole lot of people about that." She says.

"I see no reason why I would confide this information to anyone, _you_ on the other hand," I say, and I summon the Soul Reaver, bringing it close to her neck, and her eyes widen with a shot of fear and uncertainty that both pleases and comforts me, "Understand the significance of this power more than _I_ do, and thus could do more damage with this knowledge. How am I to trust you not to use it against me somehow?" I ask her.

Her eyes bore into mine, fear set aside, her expression is intense and while her markings have not reappeared, I find myself, once again, looking at the dormant god that must have been the reason for Vorador's metaphor. But…there's something there, a familiarity, a sort of kinship…no it's something else, something I don't quite understand, nor can I place. "You saved my life," She says, and I find myself irresistibly compelled to lower the Reaver, "You came to my aid even though the odds were obviously stacked against us. I _owe_ you, and so I swear on my blood and on the blood of the earth that now flows within me, that I will _not_ make myself an enemy of you." She promises, and there is an intensity in these words, a shudder within my own body, as though they hold power, a kind of promise, an oath, that cannot be broken.

If I were to believe Vorador, it would be a foolish mistake to trust a Soul Singer but…this girl. There is just something so undeniably _familiar_ about her. What's more, she has to be the most honest individual that I've come into contact with. She freely admitted to me her fear of demons and the reason for that, even though it was an embarrassment to her, but more than that, she…she was…

She was treating me as though I were a _person_, not something to be manipulated into a useable form. But, while I will not simply give that trust to her on blind faith, even if, somehow, I _did_ know her from somewhere, I banish the Reaver, "I believe you." I say.

The goddess leaves, and the mortal girl that's afraid of demons returns as she gives me the first honest smile I have seen in a _very_ long time.

"I do have a question, however." I say. "Vorador has already told me that you came from the future. You wouldn't happen to want me to kill Kain as well, would you?" I ask her.

Her smile turns into a frown, "Hell no!" She says, and I find myself taken quite aback by this answer, "_I_ want to kill Kain, and why should you get to kill him when _I_ can't? That's not fair I say!" She declares.

I laugh, I cannot seem to help myself. There is simply something about this girl that seems just so…free. There is a sense of liberation in the voice of her more mortal air, a release of certain bonds I was not even truly aware of. I cannot remember when last I laughed in such good humor, nor when I even had the ability to laugh. She has to be the most open individual I have ever met, and somehow I don't feel as though I can believe this humanity she displays is some sort of trick or charade.

But still, something is bothering me, and that familiar sense simply will not leave me alone. I stare at her, and suddenly, with a jolt, I blurt out a name, "Rayne?"

Her eyes widen and her jaw drops, "You…_remember_ me?"

&  
Ending notes and stuff!  
&

Rayne: How the heck does he remember me!?

Rhea: He doesn't! He just randomly blurted out a name and it happened to be yours!

Rayne: 0.o…HUH!?

Rhea: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Raziel: Er…why am I _laughing_ like that? I'm not suppose to have that kind of sense of humor.

Rhea: Cannon Raziel practically doesn't have ANY sense of humor, this is called artistic license. You can't be all angsty and melodramatic all the time, not when faced with non-cannon circumstances. It'd make your character too flat and pretty soon people will be using cheats to chibify you just to make you more interesting…or because you're just too darn cute that way…

Kioko: Rhea…you _didn't_!

Rhea: Hey, if they didn't want Raziel to be cute and chibi in Defiance they wouldn't have given us the option! So there!

Raziel: Rrrrrright, also, you DO realize that, in Cannon, I would not so be trusting Rayne quite so easily, right?

Kioko: Well, remember that little thing with the human Raziel that we said the Wraith Raziel wouldn't be so easily effected by? Well, you're still effected, sorry. It was kinda one of the only ways we could—(Is tackled by Rhea)

Rhea: BLATANT FANGIRLIZM! IT'S FANGIRLIZM ALL THE WAY!! YOU'RE RIGHT, IT SHOULDN'T HAPPEN BUT I DUN CARE MUAHAHAHAHA!!

Raziel: 0.o

Kain: (Grins evilly) Hey is that a demon over there?

Rayne: !.! AAAAAAAAAHHH!! (Flies up onto Raziel's shoulders and looks around in panic)

Kain: (Busts out laughing)

Rayne: (Glares daggers) I, HATE, you.

Kain: Yes, yes, tell me something I DON'T know.

Rayne: They use bone marrow in Jell-O.

Kain: WHAT!? NO THEY DON'T YOU LIAR!!

Rayne: There's also seaweed in toothpaste.

Kain: Silence half-breed!

Rayne: Wanna know what they put in cookie dough?

Kain: SILENCE!! I WILL HEAR NO MORE OF YOUR LIES!! (Plugs ears…or whatever passes for ears on him, and stalks of shouting loudly that he is 'not listening')

Rayne: XD.

Raziel: So, ah, what _do_ they put in cookie dough?

Rayne: Psh, I dunno, I just wanted to freak him out.

Raziel: Um, are you going to get off me any time soon?

Rayne: No thanks, I kinda like it here. :D

Raziel: - -'

Kioko: So why'd Rayne ask Raziel how he got his power when she knows already? Just out of curriosity.

Rhea: She wanted to know if HE knew how he got that power, and make it seem as though she _didn't_.

Kioko: Right.

Rhea: R&R PEOPLE!!


	14. Sleeping Sun

A/N: Sorry Chapters are coming a bit slower than usual. Trying to find another job and I'm also working on a more original story so I might eventually be able to live my dream as a writer rather than a retail worker. (Kill me now)

&

"We…met." She tells me, not looking at me as we make our way slowly down the path before us, our mutual yet unspoken aim to leave this accursed swamp.

"When? Where? Ever since you took my hand I felt as if I should know you, but I cannot remember anymore than your name." I say.

"When you were a Sarafan Priest about 500 years ago." She says, looking up at me. "I can't imagine how you would remember that, though. From what I've been able to dig up, I guessed that you were raised a vampire from a long-dead corpse, and when someone is raised from death like that, they typically don't retain the memories of their human lives. You have to be changed while still alive to keep those memories."

"I do not understand it either." I say, shaking my head, "Moebius told me that he and my human past had been close, and yet he was not remotely familiar to me, not like this. Were we—" I stop. No, it would be best not to ask that. If we were, I don't want to know.

But she guesses what I was about to say all too easily. "Lovers?" She smiles wryly, "No, not really, but we might have been had things been…different." Her eyes move back to the path, even as mine stare at her regretful expression. I want her to explain, but at the same time I feel a tightening in my chest. I don't know whether it would be better to know more or to stay blissfully ignorant. I can only guess how…painful, it might be for her, to have first met me, pure and noble, only to suddenly see me here, now, this wretched wraith, having lived a millennia as a vampire, only to become something even less, even more repulsive.

I want to know more, I want to know what sort of…friendship we had, how we had met, what the circumstances were. Had she been a Soul Singer then too? Had she been a Sarafan Priestess herself? Was there something about our different stations in the Sarafan Priesthood that prevented us from being lovers?

No, likely not. She was, after all, from the future, and had apparently appeared here 500 years ago. Why she was here, now, I could only guess, but even though the past I cannot remember has become a sort of…barrier between us, I feel inexplicably bound to her, and also…_glad_ that she is here.

I haven't the courage to ask her to clarify, and she does not seem to want to go into much detail. So we continue on in a temporary silence, and even though I have other, perhaps, more _important_ questions for her, my mind does not want to leave the subject of that past that was so brutally stripped from me.

Perhaps it would be best if we simply started from the beginning, and forgot what we might have had, and whatever it was that we _did_ have, completely.

&  
Rayne's POV (Be-because…I'M A DRAGON!!)  
&

Raziel and I find ourselves a cavern to take refuge in as a rainstorm crackles above, then comes down in buckets of water making it nigh impossible to see at all. The water, of course, doesn't bother _him_ at all, and we could probably avoid it by passing into the spectral realm, but we need a place where we can sit down and talk before going further. And by 'talk' I mean me explaining to him who I am, what I am, the current situation, and what I have been able to uncover thus far.

Unfortunately I find out real quick that my desire to save Nosgoth isn't exactly shared.

"Why bother?" He asks me after a long time of silently listening to me talk.

"What do you mean?" I ask, completely taken aback by this.

"I see precious little reason to save Nosgoth if it was doomed from the beginning. If what you say is true, then the world would have been damned to decay whether Kain made his sacrifice or not, though I still don't see how the vampires could _possibly_ be vital to Nosgoth itself." He answers.

"I…I don't really understand it either." I say. I have yet to tell him about my half-vampire lineage, though I've explained the loop and that, for some reason, my coming back in time is significant enough to completely erase whatever future that I leave and start over. If the survival of the vampires is only vital so I can be born…that really doesn't seem like a good enough reason. And from that, to Mychala giving Moebius the knowledge of time-streaming so a chamber would be built, for _me_, and then giving Mortanius the knowledge of necromancy so that Kain could be resurrected and the vampire race could continue when it had been decimated completely…it's as if all that was done just so I could be brought back in order to 'save' this time, it was all responsible for Nosgoth's doom in the first place.

There _had_ to be another reason, but what?

"What is it?" Raziel asks, and I look up, wondering what he means. "You appear to be blaming yourself for something, what is it?" Aw Geeze, am I _that _obvious? Why must I automatically wear my heart on my sleeve around people I feel comfortable with?

"I…it's nothing…okay yeah, it's something, I'd just rather not talk about it. The thing is…The whole reason the vampires _are_ like a curse…is because of a very powerful Soul Singer named Klossa Vel. She sympathized with the Hyldan, the enemies of the ancient vampires, and fashioned the curse which the Hyldan inflicted upon the vampire race before they were banished by the raising of the pillars." I admit.

"_What_!?" Raziel hisses.

"Because of that, she was banished to hell right along with the Hyldan by the Matron." I continue, "I think, part of the reason we want the vampires to survive is because we feel responsible for the whole reason why they should be killed and prevented from spreading that curse. The blood witches, what we call ourselves in the future, however, find a way to take off a part of that curse. Two things are accomplished; the first and most important is that when a vampire dies their soul is just as able to return to the Wheal of Fate as a human's is. That's the greatest reason the vampires are considered a plague, after that the blood-thirst isn't such a big deal. But the second thing they were, or are going to be, able to fix is the infertility, though only partially." I say, and I find myself, repeating again, the ways which vampires can mate and what becomes of this.

"So there are no half-vampires? How is that possible?" Raziel asks me.

"I think it's because of the fact that it's the woman's _body_ which initially shapes and crafts the child in the first place. And while equal traits from both parents are shared, women can't exactly bear something that isn't their own species. However, on a vary rare occasion, and considering it's difficult to conceive vampire children, or a vampire's child, in the _first_ place, this hardly _ever_ happens, but it _does_ happen, where there _are_ half-breeds. And it only happens with a male father and female mother. They're called Dhampirs, and while their vampiric strengths are slightly weakened due to their human blood, it isn't much of a weakness when you consider that they possess the dark gifts, psychic powers, and are fully capable of using magic that is considered human-specific. They've got all the strengths, and _none_ of the weaknesses. Plus they have the ability to shift their bodies from one form into the other, so they can look completely human or slightly vampiric depending on how old they are." I answer.

"So are they considered stronger or weaker because of this?" He questions.

"Stronger, _much_ stronger. In fact, I'm thinking Dhampirs are one of the only reason male vampires would bother trying to get a female human pregnant in the past…er, the future's past, er, in the past before _my birth_! There!" I clarify, and Raziel chuckles.

"You'll forgive me, but I find this entire notion of the Dhampir hard to believe." He tells me.

"Believe it, you're looking at one." I tell him, and his eyes become wide as saucers.

"W_-what_!!" He splutters. It is _amazing_ how expressive those eyes of his are, and now, it is _my_ turn to laugh.

"Oh my god, your _face_!" I snicker.

"You waited until _now_ to tell me this!?" He demands.

"It's not like it came up, and I _did_ tell you, at the very least." I answer.

"Prove it!" He orders, almost challengingly.

"_Fine_!" I say with a slightly childish sneer, and my body slips easily back into my fully vampiric form, which feels a bit awkward because I'm sitting down. Having my torso and legs lengthen on me suddenly is not a good idea while in this kind of position. I have to shift my seat a bit to accommodate the change, and Raziel is suddenly right next to me, staring into my face.

"I could have _sworn_…but now there's no doubt you're a vampire! How can you do that? Why is it that instead of having a mixed shape, you have two?" He asks me.

"I think it has something to do with the changes my body underwent at birth. In my mother's womb I had to be human or else her body might see me as an unknown entity and move to destroy me, but once I left her womb my body automatically shifted into its stronger form to adapt to the harsh change I endured. Ever since my 9th year of age I have been able to shift between the two at will, while before it just happened in response to the conditions my body felt around me." I explain. He's almost right in my face, staring at me and at my fangs, which I allow him to look at by opening my mouth up for his viewing pleasure. It's, odd, in a way. I really don't feel at all nervous or uncomfortable at his proximity; in fact, his nearness is…kind of nice. But I wonder if he realizes just how close he is.

I can't help it, I have to say something.

"So are you this friendly with all the ladies or am I special?" I ask innocently.

His reaction is _priceless_. His eyes shoot open in shocked realization and he scrambles away from me, hitting his head on a stalactite in his haste and loosing his balance in the process. And there goes the stalactite down with him.

I am laughing so much I feel tears threatening to fall from my eyes.

"Don't do that!" He orders, doing his utmost to regain his composure as he gets back onto his feet.

"I didn't do anything!" I exclaim, still laughing, "_You_ were the one invading _my_ personal space after all!" I say.

"I—I was just looking!" he stammers.

"Oh, my god, do you have _any_ idea what you just walked into with that statement?" I ask him.

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!" He exclaims. Apparently he does.

"I know, but it's still funny!"

"I'm glad you're so amused." He growls, marching back over to his previous location and sitting down.

"Consider this payback for earlier when _you_ were laughing at _me_." I say and, by contrast, I get to my feet and walk over to the back of the cave.

"What are you doing?" He asks me.

"There's an underground spring in here." I answer, pressing my ear to the wall of the cave and tapping a claw to it to see how thick the barrier between me and the cavern with the water is. It isn't too bad. I return to my human form and draw the earth symbol in the air with my two forefingers, thus summoning the elemental power to my body. I hit my fists together, make a motion with my hands, and then I pull them apart. The earth itself shifts and moves to create an opening just large enough for a single person to walk through.

"How—how did you do that?" Raziel asks, coming up behind me.

"Blood magic isn't my only talent. I lived over 600 years in an era where only the most powerful survive and I learned to obtain as much power as possible through knowledge and skills. This is elemental magic, I learned it through the blood of a powerful elemental named Ash." I explain.

"How is that possible?" He questions me. "Can the vampires of your time obtain such knowledge through blood?" He asks, but I shake my head.

"No, but blood witches can. However, most blood witches are, indeed, limited to what all they can extract from a person through their blood. Somehow, though, my vampire blood allows me the ability to extract a lot more, and so I am able to obtain skills, knowledge, powers, and even a vampire's dark gifts just by taking a certain amount of blood. I can even access memories, but I'm still limited and I have to decide what of that person I want to absorb, the memory or the power." I explain.

"Therefore one or the other is lost, I see." Raziel says, but I look at him, wondering what he means by that.

"Er, I can always wait until they recover the lost blood and get the other you know." I tell him, and he gives me an odd look.

"You needn't kill them for this power?" He asks.

"No, no!" I say, waving my hands in alarm, "I only take a small amount! I don't need as much blood as another vampire to sustain me, in fact I don't need any, human food will do just as well. And in any case the amount of blood needed for one or the other is still less for me than the next blood witch…er, Soul Singer, I keep forgetting that's what we're called here." I say.

"What if you were to take all of their blood then?" he questions.

"Then I could obtain all of their physical being; Skills, knowledge, powers, abilities, memories. The problem with that is if I'm going to kill someone, I really don't _want_ to absorb everything about them, I'd rather just get the good stuff and leave their mother's birthday out of the equation." I explain, and am rewarded with a chuckle and a smile of his eyes.

"I see, so why do you want access to the springs?" he asks me.

"To take a bath of course." I answer, "Us living folk start to reek after a while you know, and while being half vampire gives me the benefit of a natural cleansing chemical, I'd much rather take a bath right now, if only to relax." I tell him.

"I imagine being undead gives me a decently offensive odor that cannot be simply washed away." He points out.

"You would think, but no." I say, leaning over just slightly to breath in his scent through my nose, "You smell nice. Like burning charcoal and freshly cut grass. I guess no one really smells themselves that easily do they?" I muse.

"Er…I…uh…" He stammers, clearly not use to having someone say something good about him, "I don't really smell you." He offers.

I snicker, "That's because you got this over your nose." I tell him, reaching for his scarf, but he pulls back, a hand clutching it to his face.

"No." He says flatly and severely. I guess he's sensitive about his lack of lower jaw, so I don't press it.

"Suite yourself. I'm going to take a bath." I say, slipping into the passage. "Oh and," I add, poking my head back out, "Not that I think you would, but just to make sure, no peeking, okay?"

"I—I wouldn't!"

"I _know_, I just want to be on the safe side. I can't see you as being the kind of person who'd try to sneak a peek so I'm not worried." I tell him.

"And, if I _was_?" He asks. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Then I'd probably threaten to freeze you in a block of ice and toss you into an active volcano. _Why_?" I question suspiciously. "Are you saying you _are_ and I shouldn't be trusting you like this?"

"No, but I'm curious. What makes you think you _can_, just like that?" He asks.

"I have no reason _not_ to?" Alright just where is he going with this? "Raziel, do you want to see me naked?"

"I don't think I have the physical ability to desire such a thing any more." He said irritably.

"Really? I hadn't noticed." I say innocently. He glares at me. "Alright, yeah, that was a cheep shot and I'm sorry, but what are you trying to get at? If you're trying to make me uncomfortable or nervous I'm only going to throw it back in your face. Just because I preserve what little modesty I can without being impractical that doesn't mean I'm shy. Keep going with this and you'll find out just how shameless I can be." I tell him.

"It's not that, I'm just…curious." He says. "You don't seem…uncomfortable with the idea of being…_exposed_ with me in the next room. Seeing me as I was, I'm sure this repulsive form revolts you." He tells me. He sounds nonchalant, but I can tell he is not. For one, he isn't looking me in the eyes while he says this, as though not wanting to see my expression confirm his words.

"Is _that_ what this is about?" I ask him, putting my hands on my hips. "You think you are repulsive to me?" I demand.

"I _know_ I am repulsive. You can't deny that much." He says, "I'm sorry…having to see me like this, knowing what I once was, it must be terrible."

I just stare at him, my brows knitted together as I frown, "Not really." I say, honestly, crossing my arms over my chest, "I mean, it's hard knowing what you must have been through, but your body isn't an issue for me."

"You needn't lie just to make me feel better." He says, his eyes flashing angrily, "I prefer your brutal honesty to tactful lies. So far you've been open and honest, don't stop now."

"I'm _not lying_!" I exclaim defensively. "I _don't_ find you repulsive! Not at all! See?" I say, stepping forward and cutting into _his_ personal space just to prove my point, "I don't mind being near you at _all_!" Point of fact, Raziel's being is the most familiar thing to me in this entire timeline. He's more human-like than the powerful darklings I am able to raise from vampire corpses, more…beautiful than they are, but similar enough to be familiar.

Raziel backs away from me, "You can't say I do not repulse you!" He exclaims.

"Yes I can, because you _don't_!!" I shout right back at him. "_Other people_ may fight you repulsive, but _I don't_! I'm not wired that way, I think differently, I see things differently. The light inside of you, the power that you possess, you saw it, you saw me use it. That was _your power_ and it was _beautiful_!" I exclaim.

"So you're saying that when you look at me you see that power rather than my body?" He asks.

"Alright, you know what? That's _it_!" I say, and I grab him by the wrist and start dragging him on out the cave.

"What are you doing?" he asks, angry still, but bewildered as well.

"I'm going to show you something, something I also showed your human self, but perhaps you'll understand it better this time." I answer, my eyes searching for the right materials.

It isn't long before I find them, vampire corpses are not hard to come by, even in this era, though there aren't nearly as many now as there were five centuries ago. I find one good whole body, not a recent one, but, of course, the soul still lingers. I tear down the stake it's being hung upon first, however, and let it rest in a better, easier, position before I begin to sing the corpse into a more powerful form for the soul, whose eyes are upon me, eager and waiting, knowing without understanding, what I am about to do.

_The autumn in your smile, don't dare to walk another way  
And when there's no behind, don't look back, we praise the dawning day  
Your sight it burns so painful, turn around and burn me painful_

_No light can release my pain, not a young god  
__I took to a knife in the back they reign, and the young ones  
And the world will turn in vain_

"My god…what have you done!?" Raziel gasps, backing away from me and the darkling even as the corpse rises up and stares at me adoringly.

His flesh is a deathly blue, but more gray than Raziel. He is less flesh and more bone, with horns upon his head rather than hair, and horns upon his shoulders with blades for fingers rather than claws. His spine is also lined with horns, and tatters of his old clothing lay about a body which does not need them. His eyes burn an emerald green from a skeletal head whose lower jaw was unneeded, and thus removed and added to his body, likely as a horn.

I place a hand upon the darkling's cheek and find myself stroking it as though it were my child rather than simply a raised corpse, "I've always thought they had a dark, terrible sort of beauty. Most all souls desire another few moments of life, even if those moments are an unlife and they are not entirely themselves, but with only just enough of control over their own actions to allow them some semblance of individual thought. It makes it easier for them to pass on." I explain.

"So your magic is another form of necromancy? Is that what you're trying to tell me?!" He demands.

"Actually necromancy is a branch of magic gleaned from the Soul Singers. You could say we are the _original_ necromancers, but there's a lot more to our power than just raising the dead and sending their souls to be reborn or to the afterlife. What I'm trying to tell you is that this is apart of _me_. This creature is, in essence, my child. The bond between a Soul Singer, or a blood witch, and the corpses they raise from the dead is a lot stronger than that of a necromancer, because we take a bit of ourselves to give these creatures strength. A lot of people will distort this act into something evil simply because of how it _looks_ when we raise someone from the dead like this. No one can truly come back from the dead without being turned into a vampire, of course, but for a short amount of time, even a dead vampire can be brought back as a dark soldier and have one last breath of life before they go on. Magic in and of itself is not evil, but it can be dark." I explain. "I've been using this magic since I was a child, and if I've never found _them_ repulsive, how can I possibly think _you_ are?"

"So…basically, what you're saying is that…You're weird, disturbed, slightly twisted, and have a warped sense of beauty centered upon things that most people would find grotesque and horrific." He summarizes.

I falter slightly, sweatdropping, "That's not—okay, maybe I do, a little, but the fact is that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and _this_ beholder doesn't find _you_ ugly at all!" I declare. "In fact, I think you're kind of cute."

"_Cute_!?" His eyes rove to the darkling, which is currently entertaining itself by scratching marks into the surface of a stone bolder with its claws, making the most of the time it has left in this gift of unlife. "Considering what you find beautiful I'm not sure how to take that."

"That's not what—okay _fine_! So I am a little weird and a bit morbid when it comes to certain things. But can't you be happy with the fact that, at the very _least_, _someone_ in this world _doesn't_ think of you as an ugly twisted creature of evil? I mean seriously! Are you going to take all my complements as insults now? Just because I find him beautiful that doesn't mean I don't also appreciate the beauty of, say a landscape painting or a flower." I say.

"Would the landscape happen to have dead bodies in it?" He asks innocently.

"Okay now you're just picking on me!" I exclaim, smacking him on the shoulder and causing him to chuckle. I then turn to the darkling, who eyes me, knowing it's time for him to leave. He doesn't want to leave, but I sing him on anyway. He chooses to be reborn, and I sing him there as his body becomes ash, then Raziel and I return to the cave.

"I'm taking my bath now." I tell him. "I haven't been able to enjoy hot water in a long time and I'm going to whether you threaten to peek or not." I say.

"Why not close the opening so I don't have the option?" he asks me.

"Yeah, even a blood witch needs _air_, Raziel. Technically I'm still alive after all, one of the few drawbacks of being half-human I suppose." I answer, turning towards the opening I made.

"Your 'darklings' may desire their unlife, but death would be a release from _this_ travesty…" I hear Raziel mutter, and I freeze, standing still not two paces from the opening. I feel as though his words have stabbed my own heart, even though I'm not the one who might truly feel their full impact.

"Do you mean that?" I ask, lowering my head so that my hair falls over most of my face.

"I…" he fumbles, "Didn't…mean for you to hear that…" He admits guiltily.

"Is it true? You'd rather be dead?" I ask, fighting against the tears that are even now falling from my eyes.

"I…"

"You know what? Never mind, it's not my….it's not any of my business anyway." I say, taking the few steps forward needed to enter the tunnel and I disappear into the hot springs, tears falling freely down my face, as though I'm crying because…because _she_ isn't here to cry for herself.

&  
Ending Notes and Stuff  
&

Kioko: Awwwww, look, you've had your first lover's squabble! Isn't that cute?

Raziel: Shut up.

Rayne: You know what I don't get? How come you're so bummed out about the way you look! Practically every female gamer whose played Legacy of Kain becomes one of your fangirls, DOESN'T THAT GIVE YOU A HINT OR SOMETHING!?

Rhea: in a twisted sort of way we somehow manage to fall in love with Razzy-chan in spite of his lack of lower jaw and other…certain…body parts.

Raziel: What, like my stomach?

Rhea: Yeah, stomach, we'll go with that.

Raziel: 0.o

Rayne: Though his vampire self is _unbearably_ hot…That might have something to do with it.

Kioko: And all his angst and melodrama.

Raziel: Er, can we stop talking about me now? It makes me a little uncomfortable.

Kioko: Awwwww, does poor Razzy-chan have issues with his self-esteem?

Raziel: The cutesy nick-names don't exactly help.

Kain: Why don't I have cutesy nick-names?

Kioko: Because you're ugly?

Kain: 0.0 You truly _are_ heartless.

Kioko: Oh dear gods—THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU G(BEEPBEEP)IT!!

Rhea: AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT!! Introducing: CHIBI RAZZY!! (Produces chibified version of Raziel)

Raziel: Holy—

Chibi Razzy: Hi!

Rayne: OMIGOSH HE'S SO CUTE!! (Huggles Chibi Razzy and kisses him)

Chibi Razzy: I gots kisses!

Rhea: MY TURN MY TURN!!

Rayne: NOOOOO! HE'S MINE!! (Runs)

Raziel: 0.0…I want kisses…

Kioko: Mmmm…How badly?

Raziel: NOT THAT BADLY! STAY AWAY FROM ME!

Kioko: Heheh, didn't think so.

Mychala: Raziel want kisses? Will Mommy Kisses work?

Raziel: Er…uh…um…that is…

Kioko: Sorry, Mychala, I think Raziel wants girly kisses like his chibified self is getting. Don't worry Raziel, I'm sure there are plenty of female reviewers who'll be happy to give you kisses. Heheheh.

Raziel: Why do you have to make everything sound so ominous?

Kioko: It's a gift. Review and give Raziel girly kisses!

Raziel: On second thought—

Too late!


	15. The Reaver's Soul

A/N: I'm really, REALLY sorry this chapter is so late. You see, I kind of got sucked into this new series of books, the Twilight series, you know, that teenage vampire romance everyone's raving about? Yeah, I'm hooked, and I haven't been able to concentrate on much else for a very long time. In fact, I'm going to the midnight party for the release of the last book tomorrow night! But, hopefully, after the series is done, I can get back to this one…unless this obsession continues. So, yeah, sorry, hopefully I'll update the next chapter sooner than this one!!

Sorry again!

&

The chamber is filled with multiple pools of water that fall into each other through the underground irrigation system. There is a single large pool where water flows down in a fall about three yards above, and it is also into it that the water from all the smaller pools seem to be flowing, though there is a sort of crevice that makes a shallow moot all around this marvel.

But I'm too upset to truly appreciate the beauty of this sight.

I move away from the opening before removing my clothes, just to make sure Raziel doesn't accidentally catch sight of me naked in case he's standing there staring through that small tunnel, and I slip through an opening of the rising pools to enter the largest one.

The water is warm, soothing, and deep enough that I can sit down and feel it just beneath my shoulders when I shift back into my human form. I lean up against the rim of those rising pools that now act as cover for me.

The tears fall freely now, and I sob as softly as I can, not wanting him to hear me, to get the wrong impression that it was his words that hurt. Because that's not why I'm crying.

I am remembering the beautiful babe that I held in my arms, soaked with blood, but so wonderful. My child, my baby…my _son_. I remember as it opened its mouth to cry I placed a hand over it to prevent it from taking in even one single breath. I remember the song I had sung in order to free the soul from the body, and take the blood.

_The sun is sleeping quietly  
Once upon a century  
The distant ocean calm and red  
Ardent caresses laid to rest_

Raziel…would you have preferred to die like that? To have your life taken, not even allowed a single breath before the deed was done? Would you have preferred that to the eternity you now face as you are?

_For my dreams I hold my life-  
Full wishes, I behold my night  
__The truth, at the end of time  
Loosing faith makes a crime_

Would that Mychala Vel had sung this fatal lullaby to you, calling forth her power to descend upon you and take your life before you would know the pain of the world. She would have saved you from this fate then, but given the choice, what would you have wanted her to do? Kill you before you breathed, or do the unthinkable, make you a god with the Shaman's Eye?

_I wish for this night-time to last for a lifetime  
__The darkness around me, shores of a solar sea  
Oh how I wish to go down with the sun  
Sleeping, weeping, with you_

Would I have done the same? Had the Shaman's Eye not disappeared into you, had its guardianship passed down Mychala Vel's apprentices and, perhaps, by chance, landed in _my_ hands somehow, would I have used it upon the unnamed babe that could have been my child? Would they hate me for it?

_Sorrow has a human heart,  
For my god it will depart  
__I've sailed before a thousand moons  
Never finding where to go_

Raziel, if you knew that all of this was done to you by your own mother's selfish wish to spare herself the pain of having to kill you, of having to watch you die, would you hate her?

_Two-hundred twenty-two days of light  
__Will be desired by the night  
A moment, for the poet's pain  
Until there's nothing left to say_

This was the first, the last, the only lullaby I ever got to sing to my child. These words are filled with a pain of something that I was never quite able to get over. Perhaps it is a good thing that blood witches can choose whether or not to get pregnant, because doing so is such a gamble.

_I wish for this night-time to last for a lifetime  
__The darkness around me, shores of a solar sea  
Oh how I wish to go down with the sun  
Sleeping, weeping, with you_

_(Song is Sleeping Sun by Nightwish)_

Perhaps I am simply not strong enough to free myself of this sorrow, to let it go, to content myself knowing that I sent my son to be reborn in another body. But ever since that day something inside of me died, and no amount of blood magic can raise it back to life. Perhaps if I knew how to control which chromosome from the male seed my child would receive, that would be different. But such a thing is frowned upon and considered intrusive in a way. By nature's law it is the right of the male's body to decide the gender of a child, but if the boys must die, why conceive them in the first place? Is this the price we have to pay for our magic? For our power?

What does the child receive from this then?

Here's the answer: Nothing.

&  
Raziel's POV  
&

I do not entirely understand why what I said has caused her so much pain, but I wish I had not said it.

I know, I can tell that there's something more to this than those idle words, words I've said to myself more than once, and I wish I knew what it was. For now I feel a terrible guilt, knowing I caused her this pain, and the worst of it is I don't know why, though I can guess.

Why do I care? Why do I care so much what happens to this woman, this Soul Singer, to Rayne? I barely remember her at all, there is only a sense of familiarity, only this inescapable feeling of, of being _connected _to her. Why is it that I felt so compelled to save her back in that clearing, and why do I now feel self-loathing at the fact that I am the cause, whether direct or not, of her suffering?

Am I so starved for companionship then? Is it simply that she is the only being that might possibly be my friend in this dismal setting which makes me feel this way? I want to apologize, but how can I do that when I don't entirely understand what it is I did? I want to run, to leave now and hope my absence might abate her pain, but I am no coward, and in any case, I can't leave her. She is a key figure in this world, I will need her close, and, also, I _want_ her close. There is no denying that, even though I have tried. The prospect of companionship, of _her_ companionship…I don't know, I don't really understand this bond between us, nor do I feel I can believe it was derived entirely from the past we might possibly have had when I was human.

Gods curse me, bond or not it has hardly been a day and I have become attached to a woman like some lovesick puppy. I don't love her, no, and I don't care what she says, she cannot _possibly_ love me in this grotesque form. But we needn't be in love to be…_companions_.

I do not feel attracted to her the way a man is typically attracted to a woman, I don't believe I even have that ability anymore, so it was not her body that drew me into the shadows of that cavern filled with bountiful pools of water. It was her voice.

Outside I could only hear the faint hints of her song, and before I knew what I was doing I slipped through the opening she crafted and crouching, hidden, in a dark corner, ready to avert my eyes if she should emerge from one of those pools. It was the pain, the sorrow in her voice, in her words, that made me realize I somehow hurt her. No, I didn't hurt her, this is an old pain that I somehow brought to light. I'm not sure how I know this, but I do, and it doesn't make me feel any better.

I wish it were possible to sit here and listen to her sing for eternity. But the song ends, and I do not wait for her to finish her bath and realize I've been listening. I slip back into the cavern, and content myself with the sound of rain and thunder roaring outside as I wait for her to reemerge from the springs.

I wait.

When she comes out, I do not look at her. I don't know what to say. Sorry? Sorry for _what_, exactly? Sorry for saying something out loud that I probably should have kept to myself?

She sits down next to me only a foot or two from where I'm sitting, and I'm suddenly struck with how odd it feels that she is comfortable enough with me to sit so close.

She truly does not see me as a monster at all.

"If you had a choice," She begins, and my eyes are suddenly drawn to her face, which is staring off in front of her, her expression grave, and sad, "Between the life you are living, between the life you have lived, and the eternity you face, or to die before you ever took your first breath, which would you take?" She asks me.

"I—what?" I ask. I knew her pain had come from what I said about preferring death but…is she saying I could have avoided this by simply dying at birth?

"If you had the opportunity, if you could choose to die at birth, before you were an…an Undying, before a vampire, before, even, you were able to live as a human, to never see the light of day, to never breath even once, would you take it?" She asks me, her eyes turned to me, pleading, begging me to tell her what she wants to hear.

But if I were to lie, just to spare her from whatever pain she is in, just to comfort her…I would be doing exactly what I suspected her of doing not long ago.

I don't understand why this question is so important to her, but it is, perhaps this has something to do with that past pain, and perhaps…she is simply hurting because, maybe, this option had been available. To die, before ever being born…to have even what life I _did_ have stripped from me before I had even taken my first breath…

"I…I would want…to live." I say, and a moment later, I realize this is true. For all the wretchedness of my situation, for all the pain I've had to suffer, everything I've had to endure, and whatever it is that awaits me in the future, I would prefer to have a life rather than be robbed of it before ever having the chance to even truly exist in this world. "I would choose to live." I repeat, more confidently now, "I do not enjoy this life, if you can call it that, this existence, but I would rather exist than to have even that robbed of me at birth. I'd rather suffer this 'travesty' than not to have had a life at all. Maybe…maybe I do want to die, just to be released from this but…no, if my only two options were to die at birth or to live an eternity like this, I'd choose to live." I say.

I look into her eyes, she is smiling at me, even as a single tear trails down her cheek. A sudden, inexplicable urge to wrap my arms around her, to hold her tightly, to comfort her, washes over me. But I am able to suppress it, thank the gods.

She doesn't explain whatever pain I seemed to have somehow eased with my answer, and I don't ask her to.

I then realize, with a jolt of confused comprehension, that her song was not sung because of me, but _for_ me.

She is not, herself, in pain to see me like this, she truly does not care what I look like. She is in pain because _I_ am in pain.

But, why?

&  
Rayne's POV  
&

"You know, you're really difficult to be subtle with. I don't hear anyone shouting 'Soul Singer! Soul Singer!'" I say, reappearing in the physical realm, having had to back-track a bit because Raziel had found a barricade of vampire hunters. I strike out at the last still-standing vampire hunter with my implement, now a sort of chain weapon with unlimited range capabilities and a huge amount of varying techniques and moves that can be used with just this one blade. Raziel pulls down his scarf to take their souls, while their blood is drawn into my body, most of the true vitality lost after death, but there is still lingering power, and my vampire self doesn't need fresh blood to be fed.

"_You_ can disappear into thin air and still have the benefits of the physical realm." He points out once we're done.

"Not really, I just don't have your limitations in the Window World." I say. "It's not like I can do anything to influence the physical world there either. The Window World's main purpose is to be able to hide beneath the fabric of reality while still having a clear view of that reality. That's how it's nigh impossible to find the Soul Singers unless they want to be found." I explain.

"Why do you feel the need to disappear in the first place?" he asks me.

"_I_ am trying to be stealthy here!" I answer pointedly.

"And _I_ couldn't care less about being stealthy. So there's no point." He tells me.

"I guess not, just try to keep up this time." I say.

"Hmph, _you_ try to keep up." He challenges, and then he breaks into a run down the path, clearly thinking to race me.

I watch him get several yards ahead of me and continue onward. I wait until he bothers to look behind to see if I'm coming, and then I take off after him at top speed.

The next moment I am several yards in front of him, waiting for him to figure out what happened and look round. "You're so slow my _grandmother_ could beat you!" I call, and he turns, wide-eyed, to stare at me.

"How did you—did you teleport?" He demands.

"Heck no, that was pure speed baby!" I answer proudly. "Unfortunately that kind of speed is only good for running really fast and for long distances." I admit guiltily as he closes the yards between us at a swift jog.

"Pity that." He says sarcastically.

"So where are we going, exactly? If I didn't know any better, I'd say we were headed back to the Sarafan Stronghold." I say as we pick up the pace again, and this time I decide to just stick with him in the physical realm. Better to help him out and do my fair share of the fighting than to have to wait for him in to catch up in the Window World.

"We are." He answers simply.

"Uh, may I ask _why_?"

"I need to return to the past, before Janos Audran's death. Vorador told me that he would have the answers I seek, and Moebius's time-streaming devices will provide me passage. We will need to visit a shrine, however, for the way back into the stronghold is blocked and I have the feeling I will find the means to enter it in that shrine. Unless, of course, _you_ can take me back in time." He says, looking at me questioningly.

"So far I figure I can propel _myself_ through time, but I've never done it before on my own. Still, I wouldn't be able to take you with me, so I'm afraid the time-streaming devices _are_ our best option." I answer.

"Is there anything you _can't_ do?" He asks me, eyes back on the road.

"I can't cook worth crap." I answer.

"Oh is that why you're not married?" He asks innocently.

"I'm going to hit you." I say, taking a swing at him, but he ducks out of my way, laughing.

The path back to the pillars, and then to the Sarafan stronghold that Raziel is walking takes an underground detour, which is, consequentially, filled with water. And while I can stay under water for long periods of time without needing air, I still prefer to follow him by way of the Window World do to the fact that my time under water _is_ limited, at least until he's back outside. I tell him I'll meet him at the pillars, but mostly I'm staying near him as he swims through the underground ruins that I had completely bypassed before by simply jumping over the earth's obstacles.

I am on the landing of the chamber beneath the ground where the pillars stand as Raziel jumps out of the water and onto the platform. I am rewarded for sticking around when the Elder God speaks.

"Ah my wayward child returns." He says.

"Having unearthed more than you'd like, I suspect. What am I to make of these ruins that litter the land, and these images here in this chamber?" Asks Raziel.

"Merely the deceits of a failed civilization. You are being mislead, Raziel, this ancient race hoped to manipulate the future with these scrawled misdirections." The Elder God replies simply, "You must tread carefully, there are dark forces at work in this world, bent on subverting your true destiny." He says.

I let out a snort that neither of them hear.

"Oh I have no doubt of that, the question is, am I in their presence right now?" Raziel asks.

"Your arrogance will spell your demise, Raziel. Deny my will, and the arc of your destiny will reach a sudden conclusion." The Elder God snarls. What destiny would that be? Oh, you mean the one you _forced_ onto him because you had nothing better to do with your time!?

"Your threats are unmoving. Even now I'm beyond your reach." Raziel says defiantly.

"My reach is longer than you realize. This is a very dangerous game you're playing, Raziel." The Elder God warns.

"And what of Rayne? I assume you know all about _her_." Raziel says.

"Stay away from her, Raziel!" The Elder God snaps suddenly, "I warn you, meddle in _her_ destiny and you _will_ regret it."

"And just what destiny is that, hmm?" Yeah, I'd like to know this too!

"That is none of your concern, Raziel. She will spell your doom with her own misguided intentions and misdirections." He says.

"Oh really? So far as I can tell she's about the only person in all of Nosgoth that I can trust. Are you saying she's disingenuous?"

"She is a Soul Singer, Raziel, a blood witch! Her hands repair the Wheal and perpetuate the turning to continue this world's history. But she is, herself, being mislead. Following her will mean your destruction, steer clear of the path she tries to lead you." The Elder God answers.

"That's funny, because she has _not_ set a path for me at all, but is, in fact, following mine. She's likely the only one that hasn't tried telling me what to do all this time." He says.

"I'm warning you, Raziel, stay away from her! She has her own role to fulfill, and it does _not_ involve _you_." He hisses.

Do I now? I have the distinct feeling that this is a role which has been orchestrated for me for _his_ ends, rather than the one I seek to play out for my own. Just as Raziel's has.

If I had any doubts that the Elder God was a phony, this erases them. Mychala Vel is right, he _can't_ be trusted, even by himself, to know what is best for Nosgoth. He has his own agenda, and something in my gut tells me that it I won't like it when I discover it.

I do not mention having spied on his exchange with the Elder God when I meet up with Raziel at the Pillars above ground. I want to let him know, but I don't want the Elder God to realize what I just heard. The way I see it, the less he knows that _I_ know, the better.

&

"You're right, that crystal _is_ a problem." I say, musing at the pinkish glittering orb above the huge double-doors that bar our way back into the Sarafan Stronghold, now occupied by Moebius's citizen army.

"Would you be able to open the door without needing to activate that crystal?" Raziel asks me.

"Sure, but I don't think having a big-a(beep) gaping _hole_ in the doors would be particularly subtle." I say, just as a shout rises up and one of the hunters runs after us. "Not that subtlety is one of our strong suits at the moment…" I add, shooting out my blood implement and slicing right through their head with a simple gesture. Raziel snickers. "I could probably duplicate the force needed to activate the crystal, but it would probably take as long to figure out without something to go by as it would forging the Reaver in that shrine. Assuming, of course, that it gives us what we need. Still, it's up to you. Do you want me to get us through, or obtain the power to do that yourself without needing to rely on _me_?" I ask him.

"I prefer the latter option." He says, and he leads the way to where the shrine is located. With his Reaver imbued with the elemental power of darkness by way of those fonts, Raziel is able to open the door into the shrine and we enter.

"Whoa." I say, looking around at the murals on the wall, "It's these pictures again…"

"So you've seen them too? What can you make of them? It seems to me as though these winged beings were, in fact, the architects of the Pillars, and that the Pillars appear to banish or diminish their enemies somehow." Raziel says.

"Yeah, those are the ancient vampires, I think, and their enemies were called the Hyldan. They raised the Pillars in order to lock the Hyldan away in hell, and Klossa Vel with them." I tell him, my eyes roving around the images. "She isn't depicted in any of the murals, though. But I guess she wouldn't be. The Soul Singers of this time prefer complete anonymity, I guess that's a good thing. It's easier to avoid being demonized or deified if no one knows you exist." I say.

"And what of the blood witches?" He questions.

"So far as I can tell, we don't play nearly as active a role in events of the future as we seem to in this time. Of course, there's precious little to be active in, to be honest, and our Matron was lost without an heir long before I was born, scattering our people into an individual society where we rarely communicate with one another or join for any particular reason. I suppose there is a difference between Soul Singers and blood witches besides the name." I say.

"What, exactly, did you do in your time if you were not involved in the world's progression?" He asks me.

"Survive." I tell him with a wry smile, "That's the only thing we could do, survive, and that usually meant staying hidden. The most powerful blood witches typically stayed hidden because they _could_ hide. The less powerful found…other means of acquiring safety, some of them which would make the Matrons turn over in their graves if they knew what had become of us. They don't last long, known blood witches are targeted for their power either as an acquisition or to be eliminated. I lasted as long as I did _because_ I was good at staying hidden. And this was before I was able to pass back and forth through the Window World on a whim." I explain.

"You couldn't before coming here? Why?" He questions.

"The Window World is _not_ meant for vampires. Every time I passed back and forth I would get these splitting headaches that use to make me nearly incapacitated until I could recover. It was a risk I learned not to bother taking, because I could always try returning to the physical world in an area that only _seemed_ safe. After completing the Cardikamon, an ancient rite that was lost in my time, my body is malleable for just about anything, and so my vampire blood is no longer an obstacle. It also gives me the ability to change my body's superficial shape, deviating from my human or vampire forms. Observe." I say, and I lengthen my cloven claws until I have 3 curved sword-like appendages extending from each palm.

"I'm starting to understand where Vorador's metaphor came from…" Raziel says with a single widened eye.

"It came from his experiences with the Matron, not me." I tell him with a frown.

"And this is suppose to comfort me?"

"No, it's suppose to keep you from trying to run away with the mistaken impression that I'm a god in a corporeal form." I answer. Because that's _you_, Raziel.

"And of this Matron you speak off? Is _she_ a god in corporeal form?" He asks me.

"I'm going to be safe and say _no_, because while the Elder God can't exactly reach out and smack us if we get out of line, we're still not gods because we _can_ be killed, and Matrons, though the current one has lived for a ridiculously long amount of time it seems, _do_ pass away, hopefully leaving heirs so that the line will continue. And by heirs I mean they choose someone to take their place and there doesn't have to be a blood relation." I point out. "I'd like to say that Mychala Vel is like a goddess in flesh, but she'd probably crack her staff over my head again if I did." I say.

"Wait, you've _met_ this Matron of yours!?" He exclaims, his eyes wide.

"Who do you think gave me the knowledge of time-travel, Moebius?" I ask, snorting.

"Oh, have you met Moebius?" Raziel asks curiously.

"Unfortunately, yes. Back about 500 years ago when I _first_ arrived after using the time-streaming device. Mychala Vel propelled me into this time so that I could complete the Cardikamon and learn to travel through time myself. Do you know what his future self's ghost asked me to do if I came across him in this past?" I ask, grinning.

"What's that?"

"Slap him." I answer. Raziel stares at me for a moment.

"Please tell me you honored this request." He says, looking as though he's about to bust out laughing.

"The look on his face was _priceless_!" I say snickering, and Raziel does, indeed, bust out laughing at this.

We get to work on igniting the forge. It isn't difficult to figure out what to do, not after Raziel had had experiences with a forge like this before and thereby has a rough idea of what needs to be done. It's just coordinating our efforts that gets difficult.

"You want me to turn it _where_?!" I shout.

"I need you to turn it in _my direction_!!" He answers in frustration.

"Well where _are_ you!? I can't f(beep)ing _see_ you, Raziel!! Godd(beep)it, I'm not omniscient for the last—oh, _there_ you are!"

He smacks himself in the face and mutters something under his breath.

"What was that!?" I demand, knowing very well it had something to do with 'women' and 'incompetence' "I will rewrite your DNA strand to turn you into a tub of ectoplasm and then force-feed your goop to Kain!!" I shout.

Yeah, he would probably have had an easier time if I just stood back and let him work, but oh noooo, I have to pull my weight, I have to _help_.

What's more…

"Hey what's that eye thing doing—"

"RAYNE NO!!"

ZZZZZZZZZT

"HOLY (BEEEEEEEEEEEEP)!! THAT HURT!!" I cry, clutching my shoulder which got hit by the blast from that eyeball. "Oh yeah!? You want a piece of this huh!? Motherf(beep)ing b(beep), spin on _this_!" I yell, sending a destructive blast of darkness at the eye, shattering it to pieces.

"I'm surprised you weren't _killed_!" Raziel shouts, grabbing me by my _good_ shoulder and shaking me, his eyes blazing with fury, "Next time you see one of those, _stay away_ from it!! And don't go approaching anything like that unless you know what it does!! Those things slaughter the skeletons and send _me_ right back to the spectral realm!" He says angrily.

"For the love of _deus_, Raziel, isn't the pain in my shoulder _enough_ negative reinforcement? Oh and now it's turning black, that can't be good—eeEEP!" I cry out as Raziel suddenly scoops me up right off my feet and carries me bodily back to the entrance of the shrine. "I can _walk_ you know." I say grumpily, even as I feel my body's strength being drawn out of my limbs and into the healing of that wound.

"Yes, right into another trap no doubt." He snorts, and he sets me, very gently, onto the floor. "_Stay_." He orders flatly.

"But I—"

"You've helped enough! Stay _right here_ and focus on getting that thing healed. You won't be _any_ use to me dead after all!" He says.

"_Fine_." I grumble.

He's gone, and now I'm both bored and in pain.

I place a small cut upon my shoulder where the black mark continues to spread using a claw and I draw the taint of whatever beam that eye-thing put into me out through that cut. I destroy it with fire, and while I still feel slightly weakened, after the cut heals I have nothing to do.

Nothing, except what I had been loath to do even when Raziel _wasn't_ around.

For the first time in a while, I take the Soul Reaver from out of subspace, and I hold it in one hand with the blade laying across my lap. Yes, now that I am looking for it, now that my mind is not focused on something else, I can sense it, but it takes knowing it's there to find it.

The Shaman's Eye, that same force I felt in Raziel is also in this sword. But more than that, more than the eye, there is something else, something that slowly begins to awaken and pulse beneath my hand. And now, only now, do I realize what this extra sense is, this consciousness unconnected, yet at the same time bound unknowingly, to the Shaman's Eye. It's Raziel himself, Raziel's own soul.

And suddenly, inexplicably, I realize, without truly understanding _how_ I came to this knowledge, that the reason I have been feeling such a strong connection with Raziel, the reason _he_ seems to be feeling that connection, and, perhaps, more than that, is not because we _are_ lovers, but because we _were_.

The Raziel in this blade, in _this_ Soul Reaver remembers me, loves me, even though he isn't entirely in his right mind, even though he is little more than the ravenous spirit of the blade, the soul trapped within, only partially aware of the outside world. He remembers, and his memories, his connection with my past self has been effecting _this_ past, _this_ loop.

_This_ is why the human Raziel felt he knew me! This is why the Undying Raziel knows me, remembers me, even though all his human memories should have gone. They _did_ leave, but the one thing that has stayed the same is that the Soul Reaver is with me. In another dimension, yes, in sub-space, yes, but this is the Shaman's Eye we are talking about, this is the greatest artifact ever bestowed upon the blood witches. Some have gone so far as to say it is the source of our power. Having two at once might not necessarily create a paradox, because the Eye needn't be bound into one form. But that doesn't mean it won't effect the second Eye, the second Raziel. Having two _would_ cause something to happen, perhaps not a paradox specifically, but the power of just one incarnation of the Shaman's Eye would be enough to warp history itself.

I feel the power of the Shaman's Eye in the blade, needing to but be called, awakened, and I could then access that monumental force that only a Master Soul Singer would be able to use. But I feel Raziel, and I can hear him, trying, desperately, to reach me, to speak to me.

"_Rayne I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"_ Is all I can make out, and a rush of longing washes over me as I feel the love emanating from the blade, and the guilt I feel at its misdirection. I am not the Rayne this Raziel fell in love with, but how can he know that? How can he understand in this state?

I take a small bit of the blade's excess power into my body to use as nourishment, to regain the strength I lost, and then I banish the blade. Tears fall, though I am able to stem the flow and brush them away. But I can't stop myself from wondering…

Am I, in fact, falling in love with Raziel? And if so, is it because _I_ feel this way, or because my _past_ self did?

&  
Ending Notes and Stuff!  
&

Kioko: You know, this MIGHT be a surprise…but it's not.

Rhea: Yeah, because you TOLD EVERYONE!! (Glowers)

Kioko: Heheheh.

Rayne: Hey, uh, where's Raziel?

Rhea: Heheheh, behind that curtain over there. Hiding.

Rayne: What the crap? Raziel why are you hi—(Pulls open curtain)—ding?

Raziel: (Glaring) (Is various shades of red and pink)

Rayne: …Where'd the paint come from?

Rhea: XD That's not paint.

Rayne: 0.0, Then what—

Raziel: That's the LAST TIME I ask ANYTHING from ANYONE!!

Rhea: Remember in the last chapter when we told the reviewers to give Raziel girly kisses?

Rayne: X,X THAT'S LIPSTICK!?

Kioko: Which is…ironic as I was under the impression that the kind of girls who played video games like Legacy of Kain aren't the kind of girls that wear makeup like that.

Rayne: What makes you say that?

Rhea: The fact that neither of _us_ wear makeup, but that's a bit of an unfair stereotype, Kio-chan.

Kioko: (Shrugs)

Rhea: I know another gamer girl and _she_ wears makeup.

Kioko: Okay, fine, it just seemed weird, okay?

Rhea: Okay. BTW, I'M HUNGRY!! LET'S GO GET SOMETHING TO EAT!!

Rayne: Chinese Buffet?

Rhea: Well I was thinking more Japanese hibatchi…

Kioko: Well if you want to part with enough of your precious shinies in order to pay for all of us…I'm game!

Kain: You know, these Ending Notes aren't nearly as funny as most of the others.

Rhea: That's because I'M HUNGRY!! Mah dragon tummy es growling! NEED FOOD!

Kain: You suck.

Rhea: …(Pulls out a gigantic hat and stuffs it over Kain)

Kioko: R&--oh whatever, no one cares.

Rayne: _She_ cares.

Kioko: So?

Rayne: Haven't we done this joke already?

Kioko: Many times!

Rayne: Heh, oh well! Can't argue with that logic!

Elder God: -.- just how many times am I going to have to recycle THAT JOKE?

Kioko: As many times as we feel like!


	16. Casualty and Free Will

A/N: **PLEASE READ!**

I am _not_ continuing this story. The chapters I am uploading right now are actually buffer chapters that I realized I still had but never published. After chapter 24 this story is dead and buried. The only way it'd be continued is if I went back and completely rewrote the entire thing. These chapters are unedited (though back when I wrote them I didn't do much editing at all) despite the fact that they desperately need it and I have not gone back to reread them so I have next to no idea how good they are or even what's in them.

You have been warned.

I doze off while waiting for Raziel's return, not much, but enough to sink into half-formed deliriums of images and noises that do not exist. Any hint of attack would wake me in this state, and yet I am able to obtain some of the necessary rest my body still needs as a living being. I hear his voice in my delirium, speaking, not to me, but to himself, and the words he says are lost moments after they are heard and understood.

Time passes, until finally I sense Raziel's approach, though not soon enough to cover up the fact that I had been sleeping, just soon enough to look up before he can get close enough to play a joke on me or suspect that I would be helpless in this state.

"Tired?" He asks with a slight snicker as I get to my feet.

"A little, but more so bored out of my _mind_." I answer ruefully, and he chuckles.

"You can't find any way of amusing yourself?" He asks.

"I could, but I don't think the walls would appreciate suddenly having live growths poking out all over the place. It might be sick." I answer cheerfully, earning myself another laugh.

"I'm sure it appreciates your self-control." He says.

We stop somewhere to rest for the day. A cave high upon the cliffs that overlook our entrance into the Sarafan fortress which we were only able to reach through my use of wind magic. Even so, I put a few wards upon the entrance to keep out any unwanted guests. Unfortunately this one isn't anywhere near a secret hot spring, so I have to make due with the vampire's natural cleansing secretions instead of enjoying the warmth of water heated by the earth's blood.

"Wake me when you get up. We don't need to linger in any one place for overlong." I say, laying down on the hard floor and closing my eyes to get some sleep.

Raziel nods and I doze off gratefully.

My dreams are fitful, filled with delusions of the world I'd left behind. A vampire mother clutching her dead husband and son, sobbing beneath the flickering light of a lamp post and dying of her own grief, a little girl with only rags on her back, her eyes bulging, her movements jerking about, indicative of light demon possession. A tainting, done, likely by accident, by a blood witch, and left to die from the inside out. I cringe away, but the demon's face grins at me from the spectral realm. I watch as Coal dies next to me, the eyes of my only child stare blankly at nothing, his soul gone, his body decaying. Ash dies of a fatal wound to his heart, one that I am too late to heal. Children hold hands and walk around in a circle, then they fall down to the ground like it's some game they're playing. But their faces are black and their eyes are blind. They die even as their spectral souls continue to circle with hands held together as though they can keep on going if they just don't let go.

When Raziel shakes me awake I am sweating and panting, and I don't feel as though I had any rest at all.

"You were having a nightmare." He tells me.

"So I noticed." I say with a small smile, but he's not amused.

"You had a nightmare last time you slept as well." He says.

"Yeah, well, good dreams are made of good memories and I don't have too many of those I'm afraid." I tell him. I sigh heavily, "Tahl'Imyouhr." I mutter with a wry smirk.

"What's that?" He asks me.

"It's Hametsu, the full meaning is a bit intricate, but basically it means 'rest in peace', 'sleep without dreams', and sometimes it's used to mean 'die in the earth's blood'." I answer.

"In the earth's blood? The earth does not bleed." Raziel said, giving me a confused look.

"Yes it does. Its blood flows to the surface through volcanic eruptions. The earth's blood is heat, melted rock that is so hot it destroys everything in its path. But to the blood witches it is the source of a great power that can be accessed through certain sacrificial rites. In the Cardikamon we sacrifice our blood so that the earth's blood will come into our veins through the lacerations on our flesh and give our bodies elasticity." I tell him.

"Yes, you told me about that I think. But didn't you say it gave you the strength to enter your 'Window World'? Why 'elasticity'?" He asks.

"Because that _is_ the strength of the Cardikamon. It isn't strength you need to enter the Window World, it's the ability to _adapt_ to it. Think of the thick stem of a flower. A brittle stem is easily broken in two by bending it, but a flexible stem will not break even if you were to try folding it in half. You would, in fact, have to get a knife and slice the two pieces because no amount of bending would break it. Metal is more malleable than glass, and so it is considered stronger because you can bend a piece of metal, glass will simply break. Through the Cardikamon my body is now able to simply adapt and bend to certain conditions. Thus, as I showed you before, I can shift my very shape into any form I please." I explain, "Though Mychala Vel strongly suggested I _not_ attempt a liquid form." I say.

"I see, though as a liquid it would be impossible to kill you, even _with_ a blade." He muses.

"Oh it'd still be possible, just not by physical means." I answer, getting to my feet. "Shall we get going? I want to see the look on Moebius's face when he sees me again." I say.

"Oh yes, that _will_ be amusing, won't it?"

We reenter the stronghold; him, coming back after recently leaving, and me returning after 500 years. Naturally, the militia army that now inhabit these walls don't much appreciate our presence. But what are they going to do, kill us? Yeah right.

Raziel knows the way better than I do and we soon find ourselves in a sort of cathedral I've never entered, where there is blood on the floor that neither of us put there. What is more, I feel heavy on the inside, the world around us is distorting, moving where it shouldn't be, bending in and out as though the bend itself were in my mind rather than without. One look at Raziel tells me he's experiencing the same thing. We kneel beside a dead body whose broken neck bears testament to indications of a vampire bite. It doesn't take either of us much more than that to figure out just who is here. "Show yourself Kain." Raziel challenges.

"Here, Raziel." Kain's voice beckons, and the two of us rise to follow it, Raziel at the forefront, "Everything is decided here. You cannot comprehend the magnitude, the rapture and the tragedy of this moment. And yet you must, if Nosgoth is to be dragged from the wreckage of its damnation." He says, and his eyes flick towards me, but I'm too preoccupied with the bending and twisting of reality, or perhaps time, that's happening all around me, yet not quite able to touch me as it envelops both Kain and Raziel at this moment. Right now, I am but an outsider, an observer, were I to interfere with this moment…what would happen?

I feel my eyes darkening of their own accord as my blood magic awakens within and my markings appear as well. No longer golden, but violet, a dark violet liken to the color of black light. _What's going on?_

"I understand only this, Kain; That you and Moebius have compelled me to this moment simply means I can trust neither of you." Raziel tells him. "I don't know who's pulling the strings, but it no longer matters, because I'm cutting them. I set my own course from here." He says, turning, only to see me staring at my own markings.

"I don't think it's going to be that simple." I say, regarding Kain myself now, "What's going on, Kain, why does it feel as though time itself is bending around the two of you, as if waiting for something to happen?" I demand.

He chuckles, "I'm not sure what altercations _your_ presence has upon this moment, but our presence here, in this time, does not alter history at all. Raziel and I meet here because we are compelled to, we have _always_ met here. History, is irredeemable." He says. "Drop a stone into a rushing river, the current simply courses around it and flows on as if the obstruction were never there. Raziel and I are pebbles, and have even less hope of disrupting the time stream. The continuum of history is simply too strong, too resilient.

"However, we appear to be in the presence of two exceptions. Our Soul Singer friend from the future, and William here." He says, moving to allow us a better view of the king's tomb. Only now do I see it, the Reaver, laying there on the coffin. "The beloved boy king, turned tyrant." Kain takes up the Reaver, and turns to face us. "In my youth, I witnessed William's rise to power and his transformation into the Nemisis who laid waste to Nosgoth." He says.

"My god…" I murmur, remembering what Mychala Vel had told me about this, _"King William the Just will be killed by Kain who goes back in time to prevent William from becoming the Nemesis that ravages the land. So, rather than becoming the tyrant he might have been, he is martyred by Kain, a vampire, and Moebius uses this to launch that second war, rising to power in William's place with his talk of the plague that the vampire's represent."_

"Keep your distance Kain." Raziel snarls, moving slightly in front of me, likely more out of instinct than anything else.

"Years later," Kain goes on, "I stumble upon a chance to journey back in history, unaware that the entire affair has been carefully orchestrated by Moebius. In my wisdom, I seized this opportunity to murder the young king before he could ravage Nosgoth, and thereby provide the catalyst Moebius needs to ignite a genocidal war against our race."

"I warn you, no further." Raziel says, stepping resolutely between me and Kain, though it isn't _me_ who's apart of all this and needs protecting. But what's happening is not a battle I can merely lend my blade into, this _is_ a historical event, one which I have no place in. But I don't know what's going on. My heart is beating fast, my senses are in a whirl of confusion. Part of me says to let this play itself out, another part says to stop it. My instincts are splitting into two directions and I don't know which path to take. I cannot act when I don't know what action is to be taken after all.

"This, one, reckless act unravels the scan of History. The Nemesis, never becomes the Nemesis, William dies a martyred saint. I, the vampire assassin, become the author of my own species' extinction, and Moebius profits from it all. I destroyed a Tyrant, only to create one far worse." He says, and his own eyes lead mine up to the mural upon which a man, deified by a halo about his head, and a vampire with long white hair, are locked in combat. However, they _both_ possess the Reaver. "But how can it be so?" Kain goes on, "How, if history is immutable? The answer, is here in this room, Raziel." He says, and he walks forward, holding the Reaver with one clawed hand on the hilt, the other bracing the blade itself. "Moebius propelled William and me together, but ensured first that we were both armed with the Soul Reaver. The Reaver, is the key. Two incarnations of the blade meet, in time and space. A paradox is created, a temporal distortion powerful enough to derail history." He says.

But no, that can't be right. The Shaman's Eye is not so limited that the presence of two would create a paradox…but two Shaman's Eyes could create a paradox on their own if so willed, one could do it, even. But how could that happen if their powers are dormant unless…unless two Eyes awaken their own power, and because there's no one directing that power…

Could history, or a certain Time Streamer, choose what that power did?

Raziel's own wraith blade is wrapping around his arm, as if…reacting to the presence of the Reaver. He grasps his hand, resisting the Reaver's influence, "Is this your sorcery!?" He demands.

"Not mine, Raziel, yours." Kain answers. "You have nothing to fear from me, Raziel. _You_, hold all the cards." He says, and he gives Raziel the Reaver.

Raziel's wraith blade coils about the Reaver and I stare, my heart beating, as certain parts of my mind come to a deadly conclusion. My inner eye seems to open of its own free will, and I see not one, not two, but _three_ Shaman's Eyes. Three of them, one that is Raziel, one that is the Reaver, and one that is the wraith blade. All of them separate, yet connected. Unable to join together, but making that attempt. A hand goes to my mouth. Does this mean that, at this very moment, there are _four_ Raziels in this room? Four, including the Reaver from the future I came from? If I brought it out…no, I can't, I don't know what that would do, if it would accomplish something or destroy it. I have no idea what's about to happen, the distortions are completely messing me up. My instinct isn't working anymore. I start to panic, what do I do!? Do I stop it? Do I let this play out? What?!

"Then perhaps," Raziel says, "I should test your sincerity." And he turns the Reaver upon Kain, "If what you're saying is true, you should be terrified, I could kill you here and now." He says, stepping forward with the Reaver at Kain's throat. The older vampire moves back, barely avoiding his own death by inches.

"And so you do, Raziel." He says, and suddenly, something seems to be happening. It is no longer Raziel that is in control, but the blade. _What?_

"What's happening?" Raziel gasps.

"We're hurtling towards our destinies Raziel, what you feel is the pull of history rushing to meet us. This is where history and destiny collide." Kain answers, just narrowly avoiding being skewered by the Reaver, falling with his back to William's tomb. "If you truly believe in free will, Raziel, now is the time to prove it. Kill me now, and we both become pawns of History, dragged down the path of an artificial destiny. I was ordained to assume the role of Balance Guardian in Nosgoth, while you were destined to be its savior. But the map of my fate was redrawn by Moebius, and so, in tern, was yours." He says.

"This is madness!" Raziel exclaims, even as I begin to realize what's going on. _No, no this isn't right!_ And suddenly, I am certain this is so.

"Raziel don't!" I exclaim, not fool enough to get physically involved even as I moved forward, only a yard from Raziel and Kain, "You can't let it _force_ you! If you kill Kain it has to be by your own choice, not like this!" I cry out desperately. "Your destiny is for you and you alone to decide! Fight it!"

"This moment does not have to be an ending." Kain says, "It can become a prelude."

"I _can't_…" He gasps, fighting.

"These are only external forces at work, pulling you along a path you were never meant to tread! You aren't bound to them, you can fight them, you're stronger than this!" I implore. I reach out, intending to, once more, use the power of the Shaman's Eye, but I stop myself. _No, this isn't right either. This isn't my battle, it's his, I can't fight it for him._

"Listen to her, Raziel, look inside and see that she speaks the truth! You have the power to reshape our inevitable futures!" Kain says.

Raziel raises the Soul Reaver into the air, hovering over Kain…

And it comes crashing down upon the tomb of William the Just.

It cuts the stone coffin in half, Raziel flinches back, grasping his right arm even as I feel some powerful force burst apart, as though inside my own body rather than without. I find myself stumbling, off-balance, but able to pick myself back up swiftly enough.

"Poor William." Kain says sardonically. I feel the distortion rushing more powerfully now, no longer waiting, but moving, warping, shuffling and redirecting itself around the rock that had been thrown into the river by the exertion of Raziel's own will rather than its own.

"What is this?!" Raziel gasps.

"History, abhors a paradox, Raziel." Kain answers, slowly getting back to his feet even as the world itself seems to rumble and roar, both within and without my own body. "Even now the time stream strains to divert itself, finding its old course blocked by your refusal to destroy me. The future is reshuffling itself to accommodate your monumental decision. This, is where we restore ourselves, Raziel, and reclaim our intended destinies. It may yet be possible for me to assume my role as Balance Guardian, and return the pillars to their rightful inheritors." He says.

"To the Vampires." Raziel says with some contempt. "And _this_ is the destiny you have urged me to discover? I don't know what game you and Moebius are playing, Kain, but I refuse to be your pawn. Unlike you I still revere whatever shred of humanity I've managed to preserve. You'll not use me as the instrument of your messianic delusions." He says, turning his back on Kain and touching my shoulder with his claw to indicate I should follow him. I do so, my mind awhirl with what I'd just witnessed. It appears as though Kain is trying to restore the Pillars, a noble quest I'm sure but…even if that were possible and could be achieved, would it not simply prolong Nosgoth's inevitable demise? If it is the Hyldan who curse Nosgoth, then there must be another way to deal with them than simply sealing them away. But even if there is, how the heck, if neither the ancient vampires nor Mychala Vel could do it, am _I_ suppose to accomplish this task?

"Very well, Raziel, I'll not ask you to trust me. Your truths are for you to discover alone." Kain says.

Raziel let's out an irritated sigh, "Humble words for one who presumes to teach me a lesson at every turn." He says, pausing to eye Kain beadily over his shoulder.

"Then continue your journey and learn your own lessons, Raziel. Remember, Moebius lead you here but you walk away unfettered. A champion of free will, and conqueror of forced histories." Okay, seriously, I'm about ready to turn around and tell him to just SHUT UP. Honestly! Who knew Kain could be so freak'n _chatty_!? _Gods_! "As for you," The next thing I know Kain's claw is gripping my shoulder once more, and tightly. "You're coming with me."

"Like hell I am!" I exclaim defiantly. But before I can react, I feel Kain's own telekinetic power shoot throughout my body, paralyzing me so that I can barely breath, much less strike him down.

"Yes, you are." He growls menacingly, his mouth at my ear and his hand now around my arm, the physical contact only serving to strengthen the psychic hold he has over my body. I can barely take breath enough to speak.

"Let her go, Kain!" Raziel orders, advancing upon the older vampire menacingly, the second Reaver materializing in his hand.

"I can't do that, Raziel, if I do she'll probably hit me again and I can't have that." He says.

"She's coming with _me_, Kain! Let her go!" Raziel commands.

I'm gasping for breath now. I don't need oxygen quite as much as a human might, but I still need it, and what little I'm getting is just barely enough to stay conscious, much less to speak. My panic is clouding my senses, I need to calm down, to fight him with my own psychic power, if only enough to break loose so I can step into the window world. One can't say it's all that great, I don't typically have to use it. In fact, I never knew it could be used for something like _this_! I close my eyes, I concentrate…

"You really don't need _her_ to uncover your destiny, but she's likely one of the extra pieces that _I've_ been trying to procure, so I'm going to have to borrow her for a while." Kain says.

"Let her go, Kain, or I _will_ kill you!" Raziel orders, advancing even further.

"What, over a girl? Raziel you surprise me, you never—" I focus, developing, in my mind, a concentrated sphere of pure energy, and with it, I strike. "AUGH!" He thunders. It isn't enough to knock him back like I was trying to do, but it's plenty for me to get out of his hold.

Before he has time to recover, I start muttering rapidly under my breath in Hametsu, my eyes blackening while my markings burn the color of black light upon my flesh. My eyes trained upon his, locked fiercely with his own, freezing him in place while my spell is swiftly taking up its purpose within his very body.

Kain's scream of agony is music to my ears. He collapses, his entire body seizing up as, for 3 seconds that, likely to him, last for an eternity, I have bid his blood to run backwards through his veins. "Don't, you, _ever_, touch, me, again!" I gasp out, still recovering from the panic and fear of that moment, even as Raziel moves forward to put himself between Kain and me.

"What did you do to me!?" Kain gasps out, struggling to his feet even as the remnants of his torment continue to sap his strength.

"I can do worse, _much_ worse. I can put you in a lot of pain for a very long time without ever actually touching you, and I _will_. I told you, I'll save Nosgoth_ my way_. My instincts haven't failed me yet, and right now they're telling me that my best course of action is whatever _Raziel's_ course of action is. Not _yours_. SO BACK OFF!" I yell.

Kain's fangs are bared, but between Raziel shielding me from further attack with his own body, and my own defiant stance, there isn't much he can do about it. "Very well then, perhaps I don't need you quite so much after all." He snarls through clenched teeth. And with that, he's gone.

I let out a sigh of relief after making sure I don't sense his presence anywhere near us, and Raziel turns to me, putting a hand on my shoulder as if to steady me. "Are you alright?" he asks, his eyes filled with concern.

"Yeah, just sort of wishing you'd killed him anyway." I answer with a weak smile.

"Why did you tell me not to, though? I thought you hated him." He asks me as we make our way out of this inner chamber of the cathedral.

"I do, I hate him very much, but that course of action was being _forced_ upon you, and no matter what my personal feelings may be it just felt…_wrong_. My instincts have never been wrong, even if they don't always work when I want them to. And I don't care _what_ Kain thinks your destiny is, _you_ are the ultimate author of that destiny, but too many other pens are trying to poke their way into writing it for you, and _he's_ one of them." I sigh, "I just wish I knew what I'm suppose to be doing here. So far I've been playing it by gut and ear, but some forewarning, some better understanding of what all is going on here would be _nice_. I know Kain is trying to restore the Pillars, that much I've been able to glean, but…I don't know, something tells me that doing so is just going to stall the inevitable. That the Pillars will fall no matter _what_ happens. Nothing's meant to last forever, after all, so where does that leave us with the Hyldan who are, supposedly, what curses Nosgoth in the first place? And even then, is it the Hyldan who are cursing Nosgoth? What if there's something else involved, some other power that's drawing Nosgoth down on purpose? But why? The Hyldan have a reason, they want revenge, but what started the war in the first place? If the Hyldan weren't evil before they were banished, then what were they that made the vampires attack them, or why did they attack the vampires if that were the case?" I ask. "I guess our best course of action _is_ to meet Janos Audrin." I say.

"Then let us make hast." Raziel says.

"Please, just say 'let's hurry', that line is so cheesy." I say, even as we do just that.


	17. An Unrational Proposal

The fonts we've been seeing give off distinct energies that, I found quite by accident, I can duplicate with my cupped hands, thus making our trek that much easier now that I can, essentially, become a walking font. At least this way I am that much more useful to Raziel, who seems to find it _very _handy that I have this ability.

I am in the Window World when Raziel hits the crystal with a blast from the light-fused Reaver. He wants me to stay hidden so he can confront Moebius on his own at first. And then, when I am reasonably certain that he is already frightened enough the sight of my return will give him a heart attack, I can come out and say 'boo'. This, he didn't exactly plan out, to tell you the truth, I just sort of suggested it and he started laughing, which was good enough for me!

"Ah yes," Raziel says as he spots Moebius within the chamber, his staff nowhere in sight, and looking less than composed. "I like that look on your face, Moebius. You really don't know what to do now, do you, Old Man?" He asks. "Here you are, caught without your d(beep)ed staff, and I suspect things aren't progressing quite as you'd hoped. You're not use to the fly turning to confront you in your web, are you?"

"Kain's devious influence has poisoned your mind, Raziel." He says with a familiar simper in his voice, "Now you see betrayal everywhere! Even in your closest allies."

"We were _never_ allies, Moebius. Conspirators, perhaps. Briefly." Raziel retorts.

"Why did you not kill Kain when you had the chance?" Asks Moebius, trying for a different approach it seems. "He was at your mercy!"

"Precisely." Raziel responds, "I had a choice, and I chose mercy. And now I know your sordid little secret. The significance of that displacement I felt when the two Reavers came together. Strangely enough, I was enlightened by the 'devious Kain', not by you. In fact, I've learned much more than you counted on. I understand, now, how you've tried to manipulate all of History for your own personal gain. But now all your little schemes are whirling in ruin around you, aren't they? All because I chose to exert _my_ will, for once, rather than obey the demands of sorcerers, and spirits, and demons, all singing the same tiresome refrain; Kill Kain! I'm setting my own path from here, Moebius. I intend to discover the _truth_ behind all of this." He says.

"But you condemn us all with this impetuous act!" Moebius exclaims.

"Oh yeah?" I ask, appearing into the physical world _right behind_ Moebius.

It was well worth the wait for the look on his face. "Y-y-you!" he gasps, barely able to breath he's so scared. He almost trips over his own two feet and the hem of his robe as he scrambles to get away from me, somehow thinking that Raziel would save him. "Raziel, that—that _thing_ is a deceptive creature of darkness! She tried to divert your noble Sarafan past to a path of heresy! You must destroy her. Whatever your feelings are for me, I assure you that _she_ will lead you to your doom if you do not destroy her!" He exclaims.

"Huh," I say, considering, not his words, but what his reaction ultimately means. "Looks like not even the great and powerful Moebius is entirely aware of my presence, or my actions." I smirk, "Fun."

"As it turns out, Moebius, this 'deceptive creature of darkness' is the only one I've found I can actually _trust_. All she's been doing is helping _me_ to exert _my_ will. Has my refusal to kill Kain shuffled your carefully stacked deck of cards?" He asks.

"Raziel, I beg you, you don't know what she is!" Moebius cried out.

"A Soul Singer, perhaps? A Dhampir? A blood witch from Nosgoth's distant future?" he offers, "Is there anything I've forgotten?" he asks me, looking thoroughly amused at Moebius's stunned face.

(A/N: I don't like Moebius, can you tell?)

"Nope, that's everything _I_ can think of, unless he's made up a few things in which case I'd _love_ to hear them because I'm about ready to use _any_ excuse to rearrange his internal organs. You think he'd survive what I did to Kain back there?" I ask.

"You had Kain in a crumpled heap of agony, Moebius wouldn't last an instant." He answers.

"Do you really think you're exercising your free will, Raziel!? You're simply _her_ servant now! She can control you with mere words and you wouldn't know the difference!" Moebius exclaims desperately.

"Can you?" Raziel asks, turning to me, and I find myself facing his suspicion.

"Well, kind of." I admit, "Hametsu can be spoken in such a way that we can control the minds of those who hear it, but to be honest, I don't know that it would work on you. We can try it, though." I cough and my eyes darken as my gaze locks with his. "{**Sit**}" I command fiercely. Nothing, he just raises an eyebrow. "{**Lay down, roll over.**}" I continue. Absolutely _no_ reaction. "{**Play dead.**} Oh well, you were already doing that." I say snickering, he just glares at me, fully understanding my commands and not reacting to them _at all_.

"Ha, ha, funny." He says. "I felt the pull, so I know you're not lying. So, Moebius, anything else you want to try? Or are you fresh out of ideas? Well, even if you're not, I don't think I care anymore." He says, materializing the light-imbued Reaver and pointing it at Moebius. "I'll be choosing my own purpose from here on out, Time Streamer, and I find the fact that having Rayne accompany me terrifies you quite comforting. Especially since it appears you can't predict her path at all." He says. "For now, however, I think I'll manipulate _you_ for a change. Go, in there." He orders, gesturing to the other room.

"What are you doing?" Moebius asks as Raziel advances and grabs him by the shoulder.

"Come now, Moebius, you're a cunning serpent, you'll piece it together, I imagine." He says, shoving Moebius towards the door and marching him with the Reaver trained at his back. "This era is of no further use to me, you will operate this device to provide me passage. I want to see the world in a simpler time, before the Sarafan began their crusade." He commands.

"Better yet, make it less than three years after I first arrived." I specify. "Before Janos Audrin is killed, I found out the times from Vorador." I whisper to Raziel, and he nods his approval.

"And what about Kain?" Moebius asks, reluctantly turning the dials. "You're leaving your quarry behind."

"_You_ kill him if it's so d(beep)ed important!" Raziel snaps.

"Like he has a chance in hell." I mutter.

"The device will only transport one at a time." Moebius says. "After you go I'll have to reset it." He explains.

"Yeah right, likely sending _me_ into some predetermined future. I don't think so, Moebius. I have my _own_ method of time-travel. I don't need your devices any more." I sneer at him, and he pales, shrinking from my glare. "Though if we _do_ get separated in time or space, we'll need some way of communicating. A Present Marker should do the trick, but I've never made one before." I say.

"What is a 'Present Marker'?" Raziel asks.

"It's like a double-mark between two separate individuals made at one time to signify that specific time is _their_ present. It'll synchronize both our present selves so that, no matter what time-frame we end up in, an hour for me is the same as an hour for you, and through them we should be able to communicate telepathically." I say, taking his left wrist in my own left hand and opening my right hand above them. "I just hope this works. Like I said, I've never done it before I just know how." I say, even as a single, circular mark burns gold upon both our wrists at the base of our palms. "It's got a shelf-life, though, so they're not going to last forever. A day or two at most." I tell him.

"Plenty of time to rejoin if you'll be able to find out what timeline I'm in." He answers.

"Oh yeah, that'll be easy…_if_ they work…" I say, grinning sheepishly.

"Thank you so much for boosting my confidence." He mutters sarcastically.

"You need only touch the two poles of the switch, and the device will transport you. But I urge you to reconsider." Moebius pleads.

"You've lost your powers of persuasion, Old Man!" Raziel growls, "Rot here, and forget me!" He says, turning the wheal of the orb.

I close my eyes, the memory of the dream coupled with the memory of my body, the knowledge of travel through time and space. I call upon that knowledge, blend it with the blood magic that sings within me. I pick a moment in time. Before Janos Audrin's death, three years after my first arrival. I choose the site of the pillars for my 'landing', and I _go_.

&Raziel's POV&

Even as I emerge from that infernal time-streaming chamber, I suspect treachery. The stronghold is vacant, derelict, and abandoned. Rain pours in a ceaseless rage, its shower the only sounds aside from the clicking of my cloven feet upon the stone floor. Only the remains of what once was, bodies, unlit candelabras, and broken glass from the murals that were once here, are still in view. What is more, I feel…something else. Emptiness. An utter and complete _lack_ of something that I had since grown attached to, too attached, point of fact. Never before had a single woman been so…'important' is not the word. 'Vital', perhaps? No, that's not it either.

I've never before felt the lack of any one being's presence quite as strongly as this. Whatever bond we have, it's deeper than simple emotion or companionship. For all Rayne's talk of me being the author of my own fate, it seems as though whatever that fate is, the two of us our bound together.

I stare down at my wrist, the circular mark is glowing still, I just wish I knew how to work it. I will my thoughts to reach her, but at first, I don't get a response. Then, from a distance past, I hear it, clearly.

"_Why am I not surprised?"_ She asks ruefully, and I feel a relief from that stab of emptiness upon hearing her voice in my mind.

"_Can you tell __**me**__ in what time I am?"_ I ask.

"_About a six to seven hundred or so years in the future from where I am."_ She answers.

"_Can you get here from there?"_ I ask.

"_Oh yeah, once I recover from the trip. I've never done that with my own power before. You'll need to find another time-streaming chamber, so I guess go whatever direction your gut tells you to without me, I'll catch you up as soon as I can."_ She says, and I can feel whatever communication thread being dropped, so now I don't even have her voice.

Gods I am pathetic. What, do I need her at my side to search for clues as well? I walk forward, and suddenly find my way blocked by a familiar wall of force. Two strikes of lightening harald the arrival of demons appearing to bar my way. I summon the Reaver.

Perhaps it is a _good_ thing Rayne isn't here after all…

&Rayne's POV&

Internally exhausted. I find a good, shaded area to curl up and rest. Being my first time without any external help from Mychala or the time-streaming chambers, it took the most out of me. But now that particular muscle has been worked, it'll rebuild itself, stronger this time, and able to handle the exertion of time-travel. Perhaps it's a _good_ thing I found myself in a different time than Raziel, likely he'll be fighting a lot while I can just sit here and act human.

Of course, it'd be easier to regain that lost strength if I fed. But a simple farm-boy is about all I can take on right now. Unless…

Neither seeing, nor sensing, anyone around, I take out the Reaver. _When should I tell him?_ I wonder, holding the blade in my lap and feeding from the energies entering my body from the Shaman's Eye. So far as I can tell, Raziel doesn't know that the destiny drawn out for him is to become the source of power for the Reaver. My lips curl, naturally, even if the one using it _isn't_ a Soul Singer/blood witch, the sword is still more than formidable with that treasure. Indestructible but by its own incarnations. So is Raziel's sacrifice meant to create the ultimate weapon, or was all of this simply to get Raziel out of the way and having the ultimate weapon is a side-effect?

I sense that longing again, the pain of the soul bound to the Shaman's Eye, the soul that _is_ the Shaman's Eye. Guilt clutches at my heart, and I can't help but wonder if it's possible there's a way to release Raziel's soul yet still retain the Reaver's initial purpose, still keep the Shaman's Eye as it's power, and thus allow it to replace the one Raziel is meant to be sacrificed to and let it fulfill it's roll in history. But would that work? Would it become bound to Raziel without his own soul to bridge the gap?

For a while, I sit there and rest my body even as my energy has returned, replenished by the Shaman's Eye. Finally, after a moment of indecision, I banish the Reaver and get to my feet. There's only one person who might have the answers to my questions. I'm sure if Raziel really needs me, which he typically doesn't, he'll call again.

But first, fate has to make another attack on my ever-waning sanity!

"Rayne."

My eyes grew wide. _That voice, but, no, it __**can't**__ be, how could he have found me!?_ I turn around.

WRONG RAZIEL DANGIT!

&Raziel's POV (Because I just _love_ cliffhangers)&

If I had any doubts about the era I now occupy, even after Rayne's assessment, this grotesque tableau certainly eliminates them. For here is Moebius, long-since murdered by Kain, lionized and beatified as the martyred leader of his blood-thirsty crusade. And as if I require further evidence, within his hand I behold the gruesome trophy this statue holds aloft. The severed head of Vorador. The final triumphant kill of Moebius's cutthroat mob. His execution marked the inhalation of the vampires.

Far from channeling me into Nosgoth's past, Moebius has propelled me over a century, to it's ghastly future.

The intent behind this little detour is unmistakable. Having failed to make me his obedient assassin, Moebius intends to keep me ignorant of my true destiny, which clearly lies in Nosgoth's past. While his deception only reinforces my purpose, my desire to uncover whatever destiny I am suppose to author, according to Rayne, he has effectively stranded me here. This leaves me no course but to explore the era I now occupy, and see what changes the century has wrote. Following Kain's ill-fated decision. Perhaps time has cleared a path for me into the mountains, where I might unearth more clues behind the mystery of Janos Audrin. Rayne _did_ tell me to go with my gut…likely she's laughing about her little joke right now, but this does seem like the best course of action, having no alternatives that I can see.

Another wall has appeared, and from strikes of lightening to more demons emerge. In spite of her irrational fear, it would be easier to deal with them were Rayne here to use whatever power is within me that I cannot tap. The Reaver is sufficient, and I destroy them without much trouble. It's only two after all, nothing compared to the dozen I'd faced when I'd first met Rayne.

I can't help but wonder where those demons came from, however. They seem numerous in this time frame, but that can be explained. Why is it they were able to appear before the pillars collapsed? And, why did they appear in the first place, and in such numbers.

The answer is simple. Whatever sent them, whatever power is behind all of this, is mortally terrified of her presence here, and wanted desperately to get rid of her.

I just hope they don't try another attack when I'm not around for her to take power from.

"Raziel." Says a familiar voice. My cloven hands clench as I walk forward, glaring at the translucent specter that Moebius has become.

"What pathetic charade is this now, Moebius?" I demand, glaring daggers at the specter.

"No charade, Raziel. Only the entreaties of this martyred spirit." He answers.

"Your pleas mean nothing to me after all your deceit. You have propelled me into Nosgoth's future and left me stranded here!" I retort.

"I am truly sorry, Raziel. But it was necessary. Consider it the last, valiant act of a doomed man." He says.

"I should have let Rayne torture you like she wanted to." I growl.

"You have strayed from your purpose, and now behold the result, gaze, upon the wasteland that you and Kain have authored. Together." He says.

"I fail to see how _I'm_ responsible." I say, wondering where he could possibly be going with this.

"You spared Kain, and by doing so, you have released a multitude of horrors upon this world. I can accept that Kain has murdered me, Raziel. As the Time Guardian, I foresaw the incident long before it occurred, and I take some, small comfort in the fact that Kain remains the sole survivor of his vile breed. But you have single-handedly made my sacrifice, _meaningless_!" He says.

If I had pupils to roll, they'd be doing just that right about now. "Your argument is disingenuous Time Streamer. I cannot see how killing, or sparing, Kain's future self would alter these events. This wasteland was created by Kain's original refusal at the pillars. Amidst all these twists and turns, _that event_ has never changed. You are cunning, Moebius. But I think you've gotten tangled in your own web."

"As Kain clings to his precious seat of power, the pillars sing into a vial of decay, dragging all of Nosgoth down with them! And Rayne is only helping him along! Don't you see, Raziel? She is a traitor to her own creed! The Soul Singers do not allow their own to travel through time, she would ensure that the pillars crumble while portraying the illusion of seeking Nosgoth's salvation! I don't know how she managed to fool you again, but she nearly managed to wrap her sinuous ideals about your Sarafan self and twist you away from your noble path! She has seduced and deceived you, again! And still you don't even realize what she's doing to you!" he exclaims.

"No, Moebius, I think it's _you_ who don't realize what she's doing. She's an invisible piece upon your chess board isn't she? You don't know where she is or what she's doing until the repercussions of her actions create a ripple in your carefully orchestrated timeline. So far it doesn't seem as though she's done anything too earth-shattering, but the fact is that she _can_, and she _will_. You're just as scared of her as you are Kain, aren't you? Their both wild cards, aren't they? And you don't want their influence in your game. Which is why you wanted me to eliminate Kain. Well, now that he's survived, you have no _idea_ what's coming, do you? Maybe, for the first time in your entire life, you're terrified that he may have truly found a third option out of the dilemma _you_ orchestrated for him. And with Rayne's very existence in this timeline, I have no doubt that's _exactly_ what's going to happen." He says.

"Rayne's lies have addled your mind! Leave this place! And trouble my spirit no more!" He cries.

"If you even _are_, a spirit." I say in a low voice, "You've forgotten, I have a way to tell for sure." I pull my cowl down to expose the half jaw I have left. "_If_ you're willing to risk it." I say. Predictably, Moebius's spirit disappears. "I didn't think so. Either way, you loose." I say with some satisfaction.

&Rayne's POV&

He isn't wearing any armor, just a dark red tunic with gold hemming, a black set of pants, and a black undershirt to stave off the slight chill of the autumn air. His leather boots are about the only armor he has, he doesn't even have a knife hidden on his person. I know because I checked. It almost looks like…like he's been running, he just up and left whatever he was doing in a hurry for some inexplicable reason. I can't imagine why he's here, or what possessed him to even approach me, _especially_ unarmed, but for a moment, neither of us move, or speak, we just stare at one another.

My blood implement appears in my hand, almost of it's own accord, and I grip the handle in my right fist. His eyes travel to the weapon, and then back to my own eyes. "I'm unarmed." He says.

"You're also a vampire hunter." I reply. "And I'm a vampire."

"Only half, you don't count." He comes back.

A loophole? Good gods, maybe Moebius was right _after_ all and I _did_ corrupt him…somehow. "Several of your 'brethren' died because of me, why did you come after me, then, if you didn't intend to kill me? And how did you know I was here anyway!?" I demand suspiciously, "I didn't even _exist_ in this timeline until about half an hour ago!"

"The same way I found you the first time. I just…_knew_, and I had to find you again." He answers, a shadow over his eyes as he bows his head, his teeth clenched as conflicting emotions rage inside of him.

Could he be following the Reaver's presence rather than mine? That seems the most likely, and he came because he can somehow feel the unexplainable longing of the Raziel whose own past no longer exists because the future that Reaver came from has been erased. Is that, also, how the Wraith Raziel found me when I was in trouble? The connection with the Reaver in my possession? "Go back to the stronghold, Raziel." I say, returning my implement to my wrist. _I'll not give Moebius yet another reason for your future self not to trust me._ I think, even as I turn to go.

I hear running footsteps in my direction. Wondering what on earth he thinks he's going to do to me without any weapons, I turn back around, intending to stand my ground, whatever he tries to throw at me. I prepare for some kind of magical attack…but no, it's not an attack at all. It's an embrace.

"I won't." He murmurs, "I _can't_. You're all that I can think about anymore! I've been searching for you for almost three years now, at first I thought it was to kill you, even if it turned out you killed me instead. But I…I don't care anymore, I don't care what you are, I don't care what dark magic you can use, I don't care!" He says, holding me tightly so that my chin is upon his shoulder and I'm staring blankly at the pillars behind him.

"Raziel…you don't know what you're saying." I murmur, knowing, realizing non-too-soon, that this is _not_ Raziel's true feelings, but the effect of his connection with the Reaver I have in my possession. But for it to be this strong…I had no idea how powerful, in the previous loop, Raziel's love had been for me, for that other Rayne. At least the Wraith Raziel doesn't seem to have been effected like _this_. "These aren't your true feelings. You were right, I _have_ caste a spell on you, unintentionally, yes, and I can't explain to you what manner of magic is at work here, but the fact is the spell is there, and this isn't how you truly feel." I tell him, slowly taking his arms from around my form and pushing him back.

"A spell, continuing even after you left this very _time_?" He asks.

"Er…good point." Oh boy, I hadn't thought of that. "Still, all the same you're not thinking rationally here. What did you expect was going to happen when you found me? What do you expect to _do_?" I ask.

He clasps my hands within his own, his eyes boring intensely into mine, "Marry me." He says.

Alright, that's it, next chance I get I'm tossing that Reaver into the freak'n _ocean_!


	18. Awaken

"We'll—we'll run away somewhere! Far away, somewhere no one can find us. We could go across the seas, into the Badlands or the Mysterious Marshes. Somewhere uncharted, we can—"

"HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST YOUR MIND!?" I yell, jerking my hands out of his in order to throw them into the air, unable to _believe_ what I'm hearing.

"Other men have done worse for love." He answers.

"This isn't love it's insanity! You are _completely_ misinterpreting the bond between us and twisting it into some romantic dream that, even if I _wanted_ to, I can't go along with because I have an obligation! And you do to! No I don't like what you're doing, no I don't think killing the vampires is such a good idea, but you're not going to give up everything for me when I neither can, nor will, do the same for you! This isn't some bedtime story, Raziel! And you're crazy to think this, this _fantasy_ could ever play out! You—" But he doesn't let me finish. The next thing I know he has me up against the wall of earth, and his lips are upon mine.

Unlocked, unhindered, unblocked by whatever caused his future self's power to slumber, the Shaman's Eye takes hold of me and I feel its power, a different power, entering my body, flowing into it without purpose, simply pouring itself in through our joined lips. The sensation is unmatched by anything I've ever felt before. Like some rush of water, the thrill of a freefall, pooling inside me so that I feel my body trembling, yet I can't pull away.

The kiss itself is passionate, possessive, and hungry. There is an urgency, like some internal knowledge that, in spite of all this, this may be the only time we connect in this way. But this _isn't_ his own emotions governing him! But it isn't the Reaver either, I suddenly realize. It's the Shaman's Eye itself! Seeing me, _me_ as one capable of using its immense power, it's drawing itself into me, as if…as if claiming me as its own, or marking me as it's master. I'm not sure. Whichever the case, I know, without entirely sure _how_ I know, that external 'ownership', or, perhaps, 'guardianship', of the Eye has passed from Mychala Vel, to me.

Not just because I'm a Soul Singer, no, not even because I am a Master Soul Singer. But because Mychala Vel marked me, by word of mouth, yes, but marked me nonetheless her Heir Apparent. And the Shaman's Eye, all incarnations, are now bound to me the way they were bound to Mychala Vel.

I guess there's no way to back out of it now.

Raziel, on some level, seems to realize something is happening, something _has_ happened. He pulls away, slowly, sluggishly, as if encountering resistance, and from between his open lips he sees a wisp of blue energy drawn into my mouth. He stares at me, bewildered, and I open my eyes to gaze into his own. His mouth falls open, both fear and awe pass across his features as he stares into them, as if mesmerized, and I notice that my markings have appeared upon my flesh. No longer the color of black light, they've shifted again. A hot, fierce blue and lavender, iridescent, shifting from one to another dependant upon some outside variable such as movement or, perhaps, emotion. "Your eyes…" He whispers, "They are like…eclipses of a blue sun." He says.

I can hear the voice of the Shaman's Eye, the song it sings in no true language, feeding bits and pieces of disconnected ideas and knowledge to my mind, waiting for a command. Somehow, I know what to do. I stare intently into Raziel's own eyes, trapping him with the eclipses mine have become, and I say one word, "{**Sleep.**}"

Not only does Raziel crumble in my arms, dead to the world, but the Shaman's Eye itself has become dormant. My past self in _his_ future as the Wraith will not be able to awaken the eye completely, but it needs to sleep, or else, I know, using its power would have destroyed me. At that time, I was a Master Soul Singer, I could use its power, unlike when I first came here, and it _could_ enter my body. But had it been fully awake, I wouldn't have survived, because then I did not have _its_ mark, the mark of its Guardian or Master, whichever. That mark is mine, _now_, it can't give it to me twice, thus, to it, my past self would have been just another Soul Singer.

Gods all this time crap is giving me a headache. What's worse, I have the feeling these ecliptic eyes are going to be permanent, if Mychala Vel's are anything to go by. However, when I look into a small hand mirror I realize that they've returned to normal as my markings disappeared, but now my violet eyes have electric flecks of blue in them, not quite obvious just yet, but enough that closer inspection will reveal them. I sigh with relief and turn my attention to the crumbled lump that is my would-be husband.

I lay Raziel's limp form upon the grass beneath a tree, situating him in a much more comfortable position, and sigh as I look down at his peaceful expression. "If only it were so simple." I murmur, kissing him upon the forehead.

Instead of seeking out Mychala Vel, I sing her a message in Hametsu and communicate what's happened to her that way after getting her response. She doesn't ask for too many details but…

"_Before you go back, could you tell me a little about Raziel? Not about what's going on or anything but…what's he like?"_ She asks.

"_Tell you the truth, I think I'm starting to fall in love with him."_ I answer her.

&Raziel's POV&

Finally I am out of that accursed stronghold and I begin making my way towards the pillars. I had expected Rayne to have arrived by now, I hope when she travels again she'll be able to pinpoint my location and arrive here, especially if it's taking her this long to regain her strength.

I don't get two steps, however, before light flashes before me. At first I suspect another demon but, no. A figure appears within the light, tendrils of blue wrapped around it even as it becomes more and more substantial. Then the light seems to lash out in all directions, and the figure becomes subject to gravity's pull, kneeling upon the wet grass a moment before pulling itself to its feet and looking around.

"Rayne." I say, approaching her. She turns, panting slightly, first looking at me, then at the familiar sight of the pillars, no longer white, no longer simply blackened. But destroyed.

"I've seen worse…" She murmurs, "But I guess, once you get use to something good, having to face something bad again is difficult. The green and wholeness of Nosgoth's past has spoiled me somewhat." She says.

"These are the pillars so familiar to my blighted eyes." I tell her. "But now that I have begun to learn their true significance, I wonder, could Kain's simple refusal, his mere ambition, truly have caused such devastation. I feel that some darker influence is at work here." I confide to her.

"I think you're right. If something so minor as a single person's refusal to die could do this, then I doubt the other option would have been any better. In fact, I'm sure it'd be worse. The pillars would have crumbled anyway, it'd have just taken another circle, another corruption, to bring their downfall, and then there'd be no vampires left in Nosgoth. I'm still not entirely sure why the vampire race is vital to the land, but I don't particularly want to find out just how worse we'd be off if they _were_ eradicated." She says, running fingers through her long red hair. Again I am seized with an inexplicable urge that I fight back, yet unable to help but wonder how her hair _would_ feel were I to run my claws through it.

For once, I am semi-glad not to be flesh anymore. Were I a vampire still, these sensations would be all the more powerful. Of course, at the same time, there'd be less reason to fight them.

It is odd, however. Even as a vampire I was not so inclined towards women as nature intends for men to be. I had daughters as much as I had sons and they were just as strong, and perhaps even more frightening for it. But while I appreciated the beauty of the female race, I never before found myself seeking their company for, ahem, _romantic_ purposes rather than simple companionship. It isn't even as though she's the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, not by far. But I never met a female I found…_alluring_. Not like…

Not like Rayne.

As we approach the pillars I discern the spirit of Ariel, bound here now for more than a century.

"Forever am I bound, hope abandoned. My spirit, tethered to this place." She says to herself. I feel Rayne's hand grip my arm and I chance a glance at her face. Her eyes have gone wide, her mouth dropping open and a look of abject horror on her face. Naturally, she would understand Ariel's inability to move on better than I, and it seems with that understanding comes a terrible knowledge. "What destroyed the circle could not touch me, for I was newly dead and beyond harm's reach." I grasp Rayne's hand and she lets go of my arm as Ariel continues to speak. I step onto the platform from which the pillars rise, and Rayne follows close behind. "I alone was spared the decent into madness, and Kain alone was spared the pain of death. When Nurpraptor's poison seized Kain, even in the safety of the womb, much more than just his destiny was lost. All of Nosgoth, lost Balance."

"Who is she speaking to?" Rayne's voice whispers in my ear, but I don't have the answer.

"Consider us now, both of us less than we once were. I, pure but insubstantial, and Kain, terribly real, but corrupted." She says.

"Your imprisonment here has deranged you, Spirit. You fixate on Kain because you believe he is the tether that binds you here." I say, "We both know he is not the author of your agony. The Pillars were subverted by dark forces, invited by the Guardians themselves. The more I learn of your circle the more I see a tangle of mastic manipulations." I say.

"Kain handed them their victory." She says, her back to me, "They sought to topple the pillars, and he was their willing instrument."

"Or was he their unwilling pawn?" I ask her, "Would it blunt your wrath to know that Kain's dilemma was calculated to bring the pillars down, regardless of the choice he made? And that the devastation would have been greater had he chosen the path _you_ would have prescribed for him?" I ask.

"Ahuh," She coughs, floating down, her back still facing us. "You are a subtle, deceitful creature." She says. "But your—"

"But he's right." Rayne comes in, approaching Ariel herself. Ariel turns, and stares at her now. "Whatever dark forces are at work here would have destroyed the pillars either way, but had Kain sacrificed himself, he would simply have prolonged the inevitable. And without the necessary evil of the vampire's strength, who would have been able to fight against whatever dark forces _are_ at work here? Put an amphibious creature into a pot of boiling water and it'll jump back out, but put it into lukewarm water and slowly heat that water up it won't recognize that it's dying until the water has become so hot it boils to death. Had the pillars simply crumbled slowly and gradually, who would know there was a problem before it's too late? Suddenly Nosgoth dies, and there's no way of saving it, no one left to jump out of the boiling water." She argues.

"So you're saying that, because the pillars were destroyed in this manner, we have the ability to save them? Your clever arguments do not absolve Kain!" Ariel says, "In order for the pillars to be restored he must _die_, there is no other way!" She says.

"No, I don't think the pillars _can_ be restored, nor do I believe they should. Nothing is suppose to last forever, and the more I think about it, the more I've come to conclude that Nosgoth has been relying on the pillars for too long. The pillars were a temporary fix to a problem that has only gotten worse, but if a wound is to truly heal the bandage has to be removed at some point in time, and now that we know the wound was only festering, we have to find some other way of mending it." Rayne tells her.

"And how do you propose we do that?" Ariel asks.

"Logically, by destroying whatever dark forces are causing the wound to fester. I don't know why you've become fixated like this, Spirit, and I can't clearly see what truly _is_ tethering you here, but even if Kain _were_ to die, you would still be trapped, and the pillars would still be in ruins." Rayne answers.

A hand goes to Ariel's mouth, her single proper eye shuts in a look of pained denial, and she disappears to the Spectral Realm. I move to follow her, but Rayne places a hand upon my arm and shakes her head. "Fixated spirits are bound eternally until that which binds them is destroyed. Not even I can cut those bounds without knowing what they are." She tells me, "Let her go, she, at the very least, answered one of my questions." She says.

"And what's that?" I ask.

"She said the madness took Kain even while still in the womb, meaning that Guardians are chosen during the time in which they were conceived. But who was that spirit anyway?" She asks me.

"That was Ariel, the murdered balance guardian. It was her death which was calculated to bring down the pillars' fall. Her beloved found her murdered body and plunged into a madness which infected and corrupted the entire circle, including Kain." I answer.

"Oh…" She sighs, pursing her lips, "Yeah, I remember Moebius telling me some of this, but if you wouldn't mind, could you give me the details? I'm still a bit confused."

And so I tell her, I explain to her how Kain was murdered, then resurrected as a vampire by Mortemius using the Heart of Darkness, which was, in fact, Janos Audrin's own heart. I tell her how Ariel sent him to find those who'd murdered him, and had him systematically slaughter the rest of the circle, his last target being Mortemius himself, the Death Guardian and necromancer. Then, refusing to sacrifice himself to the pillars, he built his empire around their destruction and the devastation that plagued Nosgoth itself.

"A necessary evil." She says, her expression clearly saying how much she truly thinks of this. Her mouth is a bitter line. "I knew Kain refused to sacrifice himself, but Mychala Vel told me that was, indeed, the lesser of the two evils. His arrogance and selfishness turned out to give Nosgoth some manor of hope. But what dark forces are trying to destroy Nosgoth? That's what I'd like to know." She says.

"Perhaps we should press onward?" I offer. "Perhaps there are yet some clues about Janos Audrin in the east, and time has cleared our way to the mountain." I suggest.

"Sounds like as good an option as any." She says, nodding. "Lead the way."

I do so, but not before we are waylaid by the demons which are no stranger to this ravaged land.

&Rayne's POV&

Why demons, why demons, why oh why oh _why_ did it have to be _demons_!? ANYTHING BUT DEMONS! WHYYYYY!?

"AaaaaaAAAAAAAAH!" I scream, latching onto Raziel and effectively hiding behind him as, not one, not two, but _six _demons appear, their arrival heralded by bolts of lightening which doesn't seem to surprise Raziel _at all_.

"Sorry, I seem to have neglected to mention they're numerous in this time period." He says, and I can clearly hear the badly-concealed laughter in his voice.

"YA THINK!?" I exclaim, and the laughter comes out, to my irritation. "Alright Mr. Sensitive, since you're so _brave_ and _noble_ why don't _you_ take care of them yourself!?" I demand angrily, once more attempting to strangle him though he has no lungs.

"Well I would, but I might not be able to take on six at once and it would be nice if I could have a little help." He answers, a claw secured upon his cowl to keep me from pulling it down. I don't know why he bothers, he likely knows I know what's under there, but I guess he's sensitive about _that_ at the very least.

Truth is, this is probably as good a time as any to reawaken the Shaman's Eye.

"_Fine_!" I say, releasing his neck and taking his hand. "{**Awaken**}" I command, opening myself to my blood magic so that my markings appear once more, glowing fiercely as my eyes, rather than simply darkening, become ecliptic. I can feel a direct connection to the Shaman's Eye now, unhindered by space or mass. It flows into me, like the water of the well is rushing to meet the bucket before it can be dunked inside. We no longer need physical contact, this power is mine to use, mine to shape. Its knowledge is mine to call upon, and as I do so, I use the knowledge it gives me to shape the power, to concentrate it, focus it, and destroy our adversaries. Before it was easy as the Eye had been dormant, now that power is monumental and nearly unlimited. A forceful hand must concentrate it and control it. As for the second Eye, the second soul of Raziel bound as a blade about his arm, it appears to have already been awakened, well, naturally it would. I sense Raziel's own spirit within that twin blade, however, but only briefly. The form that Eye is in is insubstantial, a blade only through its own energies without a physical shell but for the same shell which houses the present Shaman's Eye. It can't be used the same way, though I'm not entirely sure how it _can_, or even if it _should_ when it doesn't need to be. I focus upon the demons, and feel that power flow out of me and strike them down. Their bodies burning with the markings of the Shaman's Eye, blue hot, even white, and their bodies become nothing more than ash.

Raziel takes his fill of their souls, pulling down his cowl to devour them for his own strength. "That time was different. Why?" he asks me, looking confused.

"It'd take a long time to explain, and even _I_'m getting a headache thinking about it. But basically I was able to fully awaken that power inside you and _use_ it, whereas last time I was only able to scratch the surface and most of it was still dormant. Essentially that power of yours, because _you_ can't use it yourself, has marked _me_ as its…I don't know, guardian? Conductor? Well it seems to have given me permission to use it and control it, but it couldn't before with those other demons for a very complicated reason that has to do with the fact that, when I went back in time rather than forward like you did, I had a run-in with your past human self."

I decide to leave out his, ahem, proposal while I go through my explanation. Thankfully he doesn't ask for details about our meeting, and I'm not giving them. In fact, I get the odd feeling that he wants to know as little about the actual encounter as possible, and prefers hearing my explanation of how I can use his power fully now, whereas I couldn't _before_.

"Does that make sense?" I ask after I finish.

"So _it_ has marked _you_?" He questions, "Where?" He asks.

"Not like a brand or anything, an internal marking all its own." I answer.

"So why did it not do so the _first_ time you and I met?" He asks.

"Because _that_ time I wasn't a Master Soul Singer, I hadn't undergone the Cardikamon, in other words." I answer. I also wasn't Heir Apparent to the Matroncy, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Do you know what this power is yet?" He asks me as we continue our way towards the underwater caverns where the Elder God lay.

"Actually, I've known what it is for a while now, but I didn't think telling you would make much of a difference in anything." I explain to his widened eyes.

"So I'm guessing that, even though you know what it is, you don't know enough _about_ it to reverse my present state?" He asks me.

"Reverse? You mean turn you back into a vampire or a human?" I ask, "I'm afraid I don't have expertise in that particular field. We wouldn't be _reversing_ your state, but simply giving you a new one. Like, giving you a homunculus body for your soul to inhabit in the physical realm. Unfortunately the only method _I_ know of, I'm not entirely sure how to perform, and besides that, if you tried going into the spectral realm again you'd likely return to your Wraith form, and the homunculus body would just be discarded like dead skin. I wouldn't know how to permeate the effect so that you could simply switch from one form to another. Likely I could figure it out," I add, considering the fact that the Shaman's Eye appears to be a well of knowledge as well as power…or rather, knowledge of how to _use_ that power so far as I know. "But learning it and preparing to _do_ it could both take _years_. Years that we do not have at the moment." I tell him.

"But it's _possible_!" he presses, and I find myself…slightly startled to see a burning hope in his eyes as he simply stops and grasps me by the arms, staring intently into my eyes.

"Yes, temporary perhaps, but definitely _possible_." I answer him honestly.

"Then, when these events have drawn to a close, if we survive whatever fate has authored for us…I can count on you to rid me of this decrepit form, if only for moments at a time?" He asks me.

I find myself smiling into his burning blue eyes, "Definitely." I say.

His eyes smile at me, and suddenly I find myself wrapped tightly in his embrace.

To say I'm surprised would be an understatement. This is the first time the Wraith Raziel has displayed any sign of affection towards me, and the first time _he_ has touched _me_ without strictly needing to. It's an odd embrace. My chin upon his shoulder, I wrap my arms around a torso without a stomach, clinging to the upper part of his body where the ribcage allows for some symbolism of substance. I close my eyes, breathing in his otherworldly scent and then,

"TO ARMS! Die Vampire!"

"What a way to ruin the moment." I say as we pull apart and my blood implement goes flying, cutting the owner of that voice's head clean in two.

"Shall we meet at the swamp?" He asks as we arrive at the door with the depiction of the Reaver and the winged being.

"Yeah, I'll see you then." I answer, but before he enters, I catch his eyes. _"I'll be eavesdropping."_ I say, speaking directly to his mind using Hametsu, my own lips barely moving, and the actual words little more than a whisper. _"I don't know if he can hear us this way, but if he can't, you should know I was eavesdropping before but I don't want __**him**__ to know this."_ His eyes widen slightly, but I can sense his understanding somehow, even as I pass into the Window World in order to follow him without detection.

At least this way we'll know whether or not the Elder God _can_ hear me when I speak into his mind.

&Raziel's POV&

Rayne has disappeared, but I can feel her still. How strange. I suppose I never noticed before, either that, or this has become a gradual development. Though, more recently, she 'reawakened' that power, that 'Shaman's Eye' she claims is inside me. I wonder about its purpose, what it is, what it has to do with me, and _why_ it is in me even as I move onward through the door and into the underground. Rayne has not explained this yet, perhaps she doesn't know herself or does not know how to go about giving me a better explanation than what she has. Perhaps the hows and whys are simply not as important as the existence of the power itself and what significance _that_ possesses.

I wonder, also, why it is I can feel her near me, not her precise location, but as though she is all around. Simply that she is _there_, her presence, the absence of which I did not recognize as a lack of any sort until her existence itself was not within the same time as my own. Somehow, however, it is stronger now. Perhaps her use of my power has created a connection between us…but a connection was already there, this I know, this I cannot deny. Entwined fates? Or this power within me she has dubbed the Shaman's Eye? I wonder…is it this connection she used to speak to me from my own mind, or that odd language again?

I put these things from my mind as I reenter the chamber beneath the pillars. I see a large tentacle curling up and around one of the desecrated monuments like a weed winding around the stem of a flower, choking the life from it as it robs it of its energy and food.

I walk to the edge of the platform to see my would-be master far larger now than before, with more loathsome eyes staring back up at me through the gloom of the water's deep.

"Raziel," he says contemptuously, "The failed assassin." I resist the urge to snort. "You had Kain at your mercy but lacked the courage to fulfill the act! You allowed he and Rayne both to manipulate you, and now you see the wasteland wrote by the tyrant's hand, by his selfish decision to preserve his own life, even when it meant sacrificing the whole world." He says. "_This_ is the fate of Nosgoth as long as Kain remains alive."

_I see, it appears as though he can__**not**__ hear Rayne unless she speaks directly to him as well._ I think, trusting that he wouldn't be mentioning Rayne that way if he knew she were in the same room and listening to our every word. "An ironic condemnation, given _this_ guilty scene." I say, "One would think you've torn down the pillars single-handedly. What are you trying to obliterate as you drag your loathsome body through this chamber? And why, as Nosgoth descends into madness and misery, do you appear to thrive? Things in this world, I am learning, are rarely what they seem. You, apparently, are no exception."

"I am the engine of life, the source of Nosgoth's very existence." He answers me.

Almost as if she's right beside me and in this world, I can hear Rayne's snort of indignation and disagreement. _"Oh yeah? Liar."_ But I'm not sure. Am I hearing Rayne's own voice, or simply my own mind's assessment of her reaction?

"I am the hub of the wheal," The Elder God continues, "The origin of all life, the devourer of death." He says.

"Or maybe you're just hungry." I suggest. A snort of laughter, am I hearing things? "Could it be as simple as that? Wouldn't that be poetic irony? The great adversary of the vampires turns out to be the biggest parasite of them all."

"Do-not-test-my-patience-Raziel!" He snaps, "I made you, and I will _un_make you _if_ I become so inclined." He says.

"Did you now? Well I've heard _differently_. And perhaps there is room for error, perhaps even the educated guesses of a Soul Singer are flawed, but I feel better inclined to believe _her_ version of my unique resurrection rather than your own. Even so, whatever the case may be, I am beyond death." I reply.

"You would do better to avoid her, Raziel. There are fates worse than death, and _she_ knows them all." He says.

"Oh I see you now as you truly are! A cancer." I say, "A spooling parasite burrowed deep in the heart of this world."

"Go now, play out your pitiful rebellion and take your place among the destroyed, the used, and the d(beep)ed! But know this; you are mine for eternity. You have always been and _will_ always be, my Soul Reaver.

"Take heed of Rayne, Raziel, She could become the instrument of your doom whatever her intentions may be, and she is not so invulnerable as either of you might like to believe." He says.

"Tell me something, are you even _aware_ of her actions outside this chamber? Do you even know what she does, what actions she takes, or are you like Moebus? Woefully ignorant until the ripples of those actions reach you?" I ask him.

"Do you think anything she's done thus-far has an effect on history? She was never meant to sway history only to become apart of it! Do you think she can steal you from my grasp?" He questions scornfully.

"I think she already has." I say, considering her own explanation about my power, and how _she_ is now its user, its master in a way.

While I'd prefer to choose my own path and have no master, if my only options were to be the servant of the Elder God, or Rayne, I would most certainly choose the master which encourages me to write my own history.

Of course, perhaps it helps that she has become my one true friend.


	19. Torn & Alone

The swamp has changed. It's darker, damper, and I can see creatures like stalks of some grotesque plant moving about. Tainted plants, good gods, demons will possess anything won't they? I decide to stay in the structure with the square well that is Raziel's only means of entering the swamp. The Sarafan had many other passages through the mountains that they used themselves, but those always lead through towns and populated areas which were heavily guarded, even now while they're likely vacant and overcome by demons.

I wait there for Raziel's return, thinking.

The Elder God hadn't known I was there, so he didn't hear me tell Raziel I'd be eavesdropping. And there was also what he'd said to Raziel…

"She could become the instrument of your doom whatever her intentions may be, and she is not so invulnerable as either of you might like to believe." Is that true? Am I, effectively, leading Raziel to his doom by encouraging him to follow his own instincts? The Elder God doesn't know I have a completed Reaver, he doesn't know that Raziel is going to be spared from that particular fate, perhaps that's why he doesn't seem to be doing anything but telling Raziel not to go through with this. And, thus, effectively hardening Raziel's resolve. Are we headed directly towards that fate even now? And who authored it in the first place? The Elder God, or someone else? The dark forces bent on destroying the pillars that Raziel believes were invited into being by the circle themselves? And why did they destroy the pillars in the first place?

The Elder God does not believe I'm suppose to sway history, only become apart of it. What part, though? Technically, I don't even exist, how, by that logic, can I not sway History? Is it truly as irredeemable as Kain believes? But then, the Shaman's Eye has altered history before, perhaps that's the whole point, perhaps I simply have to have the Reaver, and I do. And there was something else…

"So what was that about me stealing you from his grasp? I don't remember trying to order you about like an agitated housewife." I say as he emerges from the well. I am rewarded with around of heavy chuckles.

"I can just imagine what kind of 'housewife' you'd make. 'Hmm, now should I tend the crops or cook dinner so my wife doesn't poison us?' 'What does your gut tell you?'" He says, adopting a high voice to imitate me, "'Well my stomach says—'"

"Okay, that's enough!" I say, cutting him off by making another tackling attempt so that he starts laughing again, "I could learn to cook if I wanted to! That just…wasn't the sort of thing one often learned to do!" I declare. "My expertise lies mostly in potion-brewing and combined alchemical transmutation! So if I had the time and resources I could very well learn to cook food like that!"

"So how many people do you think you'll poison before you succeed in that?" He asks, a claw clasping his cowl tightly over his face.

"None, because I'll make you try them all after creating that homunculus body for you!" I declare, "And by the way, there are demon-possessed stalks of grass walking around over there, which I'm not going anywhere near so have fun." I tell him, letting him go and shoving him towards the well chamber's opening.

"Did you say 'stalks of grass'?" Raziel asks, staring at the creatures.

"Yep, apparently that's what it looks like when someone goes tainting plants!" I answer, hiding around the edge of the opening and only just peering out at them. "Either that happened because there's more demons than there are physical bodies to go around, or someone's just flat out twisted." I say.

"You know, you really do need to get over this fear of demons. Perhaps you didn't encounter them quite so much in Nosgoth's far more distant future, but it appears they're quite numerous here, so I suggest finding some way of conquering this fear." He tells me.

I press my back against the wall and grimace, my eyes closed as I shudder, remembering my own doll's strangling attempts and the nightmares it gave me before I threw the thing into the fire. Didn't work, the demon just went and possessed the miniature clock on the mantle above the fireplace and stayed there until my master finally banished it. I don't know what she was thinking would happen, and how she could possibly be surprised that I refused to work with anything concerning demons after that. Or dolls, I wouldn't work with dolls unless it was a homunculus and made strictly through alchemy.

Technically the best homunculi are those whom you can taint rather than crafting an ersatz soul, but forget that! I'll stick with raising dead bodies to fight for me, thanks!

"Okay, I'll make you a deal, so long as all we come into contact with are male demons, I'll do my best to swallow my fear, but the moment I see a female I'm turning the other way and screaming bloody murder." I tell him.

"Well, seeing as how we haven't seen any females that I know of I don't think—"

"HAP!" I say, making a closing motion with my hand to cut him off, "The moment you say that is the moment one of them will appear and you are on your own after that!" I declare.

"Honestly, Rayne, this fear of yours is ridiculous! You can destroy them, easily, and you insist on cowering every time they show their faces! One would think you might be use to it by now!" He exclaims, grabbing at his hair in frustration.

He's right, I know he's right, but no matter how hard I tried, I could never get over this fear, and not even my master knew what really happened, what all that single doll did to me…only the bits and pieces…and the fact that, for the longest time, I thought it was my own mother doing all of that to me. "Little Rayne, Little Rayne, why are you hiding? Heeheehee!"

I find myself sinking to the ground and shaking, the memories returning even as I fight them back.

"Rayne…what really happened?" Raziel asks, crouching at my side with a claw on my shoulder.

"It sounds funny, and ridiculous…I'm afraid of demons because my doll was tainted by my master who was trying to wean me off it but…my mother made that doll for me before she died, telling me that I could think of the doll as her. So for a while, I did. The demon took advantage of that, made me believe it was actually my mother, and for the longest time, I thought she was the one…hurting me." I shudder, "And I've never actually stopped having the nightmares that demon gave me then. Sometimes they'll go away, sometimes I'll have good dreams or no dreams at all, but they always come back and I never could get rid of them. You're right though, if I could get over my fear and stomach the information about demons my master tried to feed me, I could not only get rid of the nightmares but conquer my fears. I should be able to order them back to hell, or at least to the abyss, but I can't, I can't even fix a mild tainting by a very weak demon, much less summon or banish them." I admit.

"I expect everyone has to have their weakness. Just promise me you won't fall apart if the situation is dire…like when we met for one." He says, and I can't help but laugh a little at my own behavior.

"I guess I'll be alright so long as you're around." I say, but before he can interpret this into some cheesy 'I'll be brave so long as you're there with me my love!' line, I turn about and, taking power from the Shaman's Eye, concentrate it into a destructive force that decimates the tainted plants before they even know what's going on.

"I suppose, now that it's awakened fully, you are able to use my power without physical contact." He says.

"Yeah, we're connected now, but I think I still have to be somewhat close to you in order to use that power." I answer.

"I think we're connected more closely than that." He says, "I'm not sure how, but I believe I have become able to sense where you are, whether you're in the physical realm or your Window World, and for a moment, I could have sworn I heard your reactions to what the Elder God said." He tells me. I stare at him, my eyes wide.

"Seriously? Wow…that would explain some things I guess." I say, considering how his past self had somehow found me due to the awakened Shaman's Eye, perhaps following the existence of its twin, it's future incarnation. Either that's what Raziel feels now, or he is able to sense the mark the Shaman's Eye has placed upon me. Having no further experience with the Eye myself, I can only guess as to what all this means, but I suppose this isn't exactly the kind of knowledge that is imperative at this moment. I shrug, "I guess our connection has a few more functions than I thought…or we could have been accidentally communicating through the Present Markers." I say, just noticing the circle still burning upon my wrist. He looks down at his own.

"I don't suppose there's a way to permeate these so we never loose one another." He says.

"I can make new ones, and they'll probably last longer now that I have more experience, but no, I don't think so. They'll wear off eventually one way or another, and they're not exactly resistant to strong magics, so more than just time can remove them. I don't see the point now, however, though I'll probably renew them when we find another time-streaming cham—" here I notice a cracked wall bearing the same vertical infinity symbol that was on all the other doors that lead to Time-streaming chambers. "Speak of the devil…" I say, and Raziel snickers.

"Yes, I've seen that one before. I don't suppose you can break the wall down, can you?" he questions.

"Easy, but there might be another Reaver forge that'd give you the ability to do it yourself like with the crystal. We should probably look around to see if there is, and if there isn't I can always blast it away." I answer.

"Agreed, let's see if time has cleared a path for us into the mountains." He says, and we press onward.

He's right, there's an opening in the wall of earth now and a path that allows him to climb up to it with his claws. Being in the habit of keeping cloven feet, I don't need to remove my boots before transforming into my vampire body so I can climb up with him. Naturally wind magic would work just as well, but this is easier. Teleporting also has its limits as well as its risks and I tend to avoid it if at all possible or convenient.

And, naturally, once up inside the mountain and poking around, the dreaded "V" word goes up and we find ourselves attacked, both by humans and…demons. The humans I just kill with my blood implement, the demons, however, I use the Shaman's Eye upon without fail.

"I don't know exactly how powerful this, this 'Seaman's Eye' is but—"

"SHAMAN'S EYE!" I correct him, "I know you said **Sea**-Man's Eye, but you know what that actually sounded like and I'm going to smack you for it if you say another word about that!"

"Yes, Shaman's Eye." He says, having a hard time containing his laughter, "What I mean is I think your using it upon every demon we come across is overkill. Your weapon does just as well." He tells me.

"Yours would too if you'd use it more often. Why do you pick up their weapons when the Reaver is so much more effective?" I ask him.

"Because the Reaver devours the souls of my foes, taking them for itself so that I cannot use them to sustain my own strength. What's more, were I to allow the Reaver to become over-aroused, the ravenous spirit within it would turn its hunger upon me." He answers. My eyes widen. "Though, fortunately, having you here to kill with your weapon means I am able to use it more as I can take the souls of those you slaughter."

"Oh…so would it just send you back to the spectral realm if it got…over-aroused?" I ask him. He nods.

"As fearsome and powerful a weapon as it is, it is not without a price." He answers, staring down at the wraith blade in his hand. "Use to I could only summon it at full health and it would sustain me, I believe its power is greater now, however, so it is a trade-off." He says, banishing the blade and picking up one of the large axes the hunters had dropped.

I wish I knew how to fix that problem for him, but it doesn't seem as though the Shaman's Eye itself has an answer, or, perhaps, it simply can't be done.

We've arrived, passing through the hamlet of Uschtenhiem. "Legend claimed that Janos Audrin terrorized its villagers until the Sarafan hunters ferreted him out and destroyed him." Raziel had told me, and he believed that if there was any truth to the old tales, Janos's mountain retreat couldn't be far. He was right.

We find ourselves staring out over a balcony at a lake below us, rain falling faster even now and the occasional clap of thunder throwing the edifice into even greater relief. The edifice itself was clearly crafted by the winged beings whose images we'd been seeing all over the place. The ancient vampires.

The entire sanctuary is in ruins, however, and it's clear that whatever was here, isn't now. "We should at least see if there's anything of use to us here before going back." I say.

"Agreed." He answers.

The faint warping sound of teleportation alerts the both of us to the arrival of some less-than-welcome company. "One would think you'd have become tired of one another's company by now." Kain's voice rings out by way of a greeting.

"Oh no," Raziel groans, "Every time you turn up something monumental and terrible happens. I don't think I have the stomach for it." He says.

"Yeah I'm starting to see a trend here too. First the pillars, then the chapel, what's it this time? Are we going to have to face a stampede of tainted turtles now?" I demand.

Kain chuckles, "No drama this time, you two." He says.

"You are persistent; crossing time like this to follow us. Still waiting for that coin of yours to land on its edge?" Rasiel asks contemptuously.

"I'm biding my time." He answers.

"For what, exactly?" I ask him suspiciously, but he only chuckles and doesn't answer me.

"I see that Moebius has played a little trick on you." He says, changing the subject.

"Yes, he clearly doesn't want us to meet this Janos Audrin." Raziel says.

"Perhaps, or maybe he hoped that it would harden your heart against me to see this wasteland which I single-handedly authored." Kain says.

"You are an arrogant megalomaniac aren't you?" I sneer, "This wasteland would have come about one way or another. Had you accepted the sacrifice, it would have only taken a little longer for the pillars to topple." I say. "If killing you would make any difference, I'd do it myself. In fact I'd very much like to. Perhaps it would mess up history a bit if I killed you instead of Raziel." I say with a glower.

"Perhaps it would, they seem intent on the dealer of my doom to be Raziel, don't they?" He asks, looking amused, "Janos is, indeed, the key to your destiny, Raziel, but you'll need to find your own way into Nosgoth's Past. I imagine if Rayne could send you back herself she would have before Moebius could play his joke on you." I glare at him. "Make no mistake though, you two, we are all now in great danger. We are irritants here, malevolent forces are being marshaled to eliminate us." He says.

"Yeah, I think they're already doing that, personally." I tell him.

"You talk as if we're allies." Raziel says.

"Regardless of either of your sentiments, in their eyes we are." He answers.

"Well, they're certainly trying to eliminate you, Kain, there can be no doubt of that." Raziel says. "I am assaulted relentlessly with demands for your demise. Whatever it is that your plotting, they're scared to death of you."

"Hmm, Moebius, the Elder God, Ariel, yep, just about everyone you've come into contact with is of the opinion you should kill him." I say.

"Except you, apparently." Kain says.

"Yes, well, let's be honest, that's mostly because I want, very much, to do it myself. And in spite of my deep-seated loathing of every square inch of your guts, my instincts are telling me that, whatever you've got planned, I shouldn't stop it, and my instincts have only ever failed me when I neglected to listen to them." I answer.

Raziel snorts at this, slightly amused, "As for me," he goes on, "I suspect they made a grave error when they allowed my unique resurrection." He says. As if any force in hell could have stopped that. "I don't think they know how to destroy me." He says.

"You mustn't underestimate them, either of you." Kain says, his eyes suddenly fierce.

"Excuse me but, who are 'they' in the first place?" I ask him. "You haven't exactly explained that yet, and if you know something it'd be nice if you'd share with the rest of the class, don't you think?"

"Yes," Raziel agrees. "This diabolical 'they' to which we keep referring. If there's some grand conspiracy going on, the right hand doesn't appear to know what the left hand is doing. Even Moebius seems to be caught out at every turn." He says.

"Moebius is a puppet, Raziel, haven't you realized that yet?" Kain asks, "That's the sweetest irony in all of this. Nosgoth's great manipulator, is their plaything. The ones pulling the strings, haven't shown their faces…yet." Well it'd be nice if he'd at least give us a profile or interpretive sketch.

"They don't like us unwriting their carefully choreographed history, though, do they?" Raziel says.

"You must understand, Raziel, we haven't unwritten history we've merely rewritten it." Kain tells us. "The future flows around our petty actions finding the path of least resistance while admitting the slightest alterations." He says, "This is the reshuffling you felt when you refused to kill me. Remember, both of you, we are irritants in this regard as well. History will not allow the introduction of a paradox." He says.

"Maybe not…but what if a paradox is forced into existence by a power even greater than history?" I question, "Or is that precisely what you're trying to accomplish here?" I ask, and his grin is all the answer I need.

"You're a quick study." He says, "So what do you believe the greater power I'm talking about is?" He asks, testing me no doubt.

"The Reaver?" I suggest, knowing very well that he does not entirely realize what the power behind the Reaver truly is.

"Naturally. The Reaver is the key. However, the typical action taken when events cannot be reshuffled to accommodate the change is the expulsion of the irritant itself. Bear in mind, this may be exactly the outcome our enemies are trying to provoke." He informs us. "We must tread very carefully." He says. "I see you have an objection, well go on, what is it?" He asks, correctly interpreting the look on my face.

"You're still trying to restore the pillars." I point out, and he simply raises an eyebrow, clearly not understanding where my objection lies, "I don't think that's a good idea. The pillars were never meant to last forever, and even if they could be restored, would it matter?" I question. "Would these dark forces simply go away or would they redouble their efforts and try again and again and again? While your means seem to be the right way to go, I don't think the ends you have in mind are thusly characterized. No, I think they want us to try restoring the pillars so we won't look for another way out of this dilemma, meaning there is another way. It'd be nice if I knew more about these dark forces we seem to be up against." I tell him pointedly.

"Understandable, unfortunately that truth is for you to discover on your own." He says, and with that he has teleported away. I play with the idea of tracking him down using the traces left behind, but decide to let it go.

"Great, more of the 'learn for yourself for growth' crap. You know, I'm seriously getting tired of this, SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON DANGIT!" I demand to thin air.

"I have a question for you particularly, Rayne." Raziel says, "How is it that you knew what happened at the pillars? You weren't there…or were you?" he asks.

"I was, just hiding." I answer.

"Why didn't you reveal yourself then? How long, exactly, were you following me before you finally decided to reveal yourself?" He asks.

"Oh yeah, that would have gone over smoothly!" I snort, "'Hi, my name's Rayne and I'm a blood witch from the future and I'm here to save Nosgoth!' How do you think you'd have reacted to that, exactly?" I ask him.

"Point. Though if I had attacked, I imagine you'd have been able to defend yourself." He says.

"What, against that!?" I exclaim with a snort, "Heeeeeeeell no! I an't tak'n you on, no way! I can be killed, you can't, you have the advantage, especially with the Reaver." I tell him.

"Could you not use this 'Shaman's Eye' against me?" he asks curiously, and eye just raise an eyebrow.

"That'd be like saying, 'hey you, can you help me kill you?' You think the Shaman's Eye can destroy itself? Raziel you're practically a god. The Shaman's Eye is indestructible." I explain.

"I see, but that begs another question, how did I get the Shaman's Eye?" He asks. "And, what's more, if it was, as you say, my own power which brought me back from the dead as a vampire, why didn't the same thing happen when I died as a human?" He asks me.

I frown, thinking as I cross my arms over my chest. "That's a good question, why didn't it bring you back to life as a human?" I ask, my mind awhirl with possibilities. "Human corpses aren't the same as vampire corpses, but still, you have a point. It could have been that you were even less able to access your power as a human than as a vampire. The Shaman's Eye is considered one of the great treasures of the Soul Singers, but in my time it was nothing more than a legend. That, however, doesn't mean it was made by or for the Soul Singers. You can't tap into that power yourself, but then, neither could I before the Cardikamon, and I explained to you what that does. It could be that the Shaman's Eye can be used by anyone who has the ability, though how one could get the ability without undergoing the Cardikamon, I have no idea. Perhaps, as a vampire, your body was simply more malleable." I offer. "It certainly offers Soul Singers a far more powerful warrior when we raise a vampire's corpse than if the body were of a human." I say.

"Or, perhaps, the Shaman's Eye knew I'd be resurrected as a vampire and didn't bother. Could this power be a semi-sentient entity able to perceive the future? And even so, this also begs the question of how I came into this power in the first place and why it's in me and not in a more able host, such as you." He says.

Oh great, I'd been hoping to avoid this as long as possible. I find myself biting my lip, thinking hard, but more about how to get out of this conversation without outright lying than the hows and whys of his obtaining the Shaman's eye, which I already know perfectly well. "It could be a sentient entity, I really don't know enough about the eye to make a guess one way or another." I say.

"And how I obtained it in the first place?" Crap, he's not going to let that go. His eyes are upon me now, narrowed slightly.

"It would have been fed to you at birth." I answer, "As a baby, and it would have bonded with your soul so that now you and it are linked for eternity." I say.

"Why?" He asks, and he's taken a step forward, his eyes even narrower than before.

"I…does it matter?" If I tell him I don't know, I will be lying to him, lying outright. Is an omission still a lie, though? I don't know…

"It does, because you know, you know, you've known all along, why have you been keeping it a secret!?" He demands, grabbing me by the arms and forcing me to look into his eyes. "Why was I given this Shaman's Eye and who did it!? It was one of your kind wasn't it? Rayne this has everything to do with what I'm searching for, this is one of the answers I'm trying to find and you've been keeping it from me!" He exclaims, shaking me, as though to force me to spit it out, "Why!? Why have you been keeping this a secret!? Why do I have the Shaman's Eye!? What else have you been keeping from me!?" He demands, his grip fluctuating between loose and tight, as though he is fighting with all his might against the rage that is trying to take hold of him.

"You weren't suppose to have a destiny!" I exclaim, feeling hot tears fighting their way into my eyes, but I resist them, "That's what I've been trying to tell you. Everything you do, your future, your life, it was all suppose to be your choice. You're not bound by the Wheal of Fate! You should have been able to write your own destiny, author your own fate! You're not suppose to have a destiny, you're not suppose to be bound!" I tell him.

"Why?! Because I'm the Shaman's Eye!? Is that it? You haven't told me anything! Rayne I want answers! I—"

"NO! BECAUSE YOU WERE SUPPOSE TO DIE THE MOMENT YOU WERE BORN!" I yell, and he stops, staring at me. His hands falling to his sides as the tears push from my eyes and fall down my cheeks. "Is that what you want to know? Is that what you wanted to find out!? That you weren't even meant to take a first breath of air, your life taken before you could even open your eyes, before you could even cry due to the chill of the air outside your mother's womb!? That's the destiny that you were meant for all along, that was your only fate! To die! But you didn't **because** you were given the Shaman's Eye." I tell him.

I see a realization come into his eyes and he just looks at me, as if he feels he doesn't even know me anymore. "You knew all along, back in the cave, when you—you knew, you knew what my power was then too, and you kept it from me. What more do you know, Rayne? What more have you purposely kept from me?" He asks in a dead voice, "What is the destiny that fate is drawing me towards, do you know that as well? Tell me!" He yells, and I find myself having to step back from the force of his rage.

"I've told you!" I say, "Over and over again! _You're_ suppose to author it yourself! That whatever _you_ feel is the right course of action we should follow it! But even if your destiny _wasn't_ the issue here, there are still truths that need to be uncovered if Nosgoth is to be saved!" I implore.

"Why bother? If what you're saying is true then Nosgoth's history is just going to repeat itself eternally. What's the point of trying to save it when doing so will simply allow it to die eventually?

"Because nothing is meant to last forever! Not even Nosgoth itself! This eternal looping is madness, it has to stop! Nosgoth has to be allowed to grow and die just like any human being!" I exclaim.

"And while, at the same time, I myself am robbed of that option?" He asks, his eyes, voice, and air becoming hard and cold. My insides churn and I fight back the fear that is threatening to take hold of me. No, I am not fearing for my life, but for another reason, for Raziel, and what, in the back of my mind, I know he's about to do. "So all this time, you've had your own ends. Moebius was right, wasn't he? You'd use me just as the rest of them would for your own ends." He says with a kind of calm anger.

"What!? No! I'm not—"

"You are, regardless of your intentions you have been using me from the beginning! Encouraging me to take my own course of action so you could follow me to learn what you need to know for your own ends. I suppose being able to use my power, this Shaman's Eye of yours, is an added bonus, isn't it?" He asks.

"It's not like you've been raising objections!" I shoot back at him, raising to anger myself. "Is this what you really think of me!? Godd(beep)it Raziel I didn't tell you because I didn't see the point! What good is it going to do you knowing you were meant to die all along and didn't!? What good will it do to know how or why you obtained the Shaman's Eye when you were never suppose to have it in the first place!? History is forcing this destiny upon you and you can't let it!" I exclaim.

"For what reason!? Because the destiny that fate has prescribed for me doesn't tally with whatever you're plotting yourself?" He demands.

"I'm not 'plotting' anything! I'm trying to—"

"To _save Nosgoth_! Yes, and you think my destiny will prevent that do you? If you truly believe that I should choose my own destiny, then why is it you don't simply tell me to mind my own business and leave everything to _you_? If I'm not _suppose_ to be involved, why am I? Unless you need me, and all your talk about me choosing my own path is simply because you know the path I'm taking is the one _you_ **need** me to take!" He snarls.

"That's not it!" I exclaim, "I—"

"How can I trust you, Rayne!? How can I trust a word you say knowing that you've been actively keeping secrets from me! You're keeping me ignorant of my destiny because you believe whatever happens in my search to uncover it will coincide with your own ends!" He yells angrily.

The tears are flowing freely now, but I don't care. He's right, he's exactly right, and the guilt sweeps over me as I realize I _have_ been using him, even without intending to, I have… "FINE! YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU'RE RIGHT! I _have_ been keeping this from you because I _know_ whatever path you take to uncover it will lead to other discoveries and events that need to take place! And all for what?! Because I don't want the future to be the same!? Because I want something better for my world than what _I_ had to suffer through!?" I demand.

"Do you think I care about that!? All I want is the _truth_, Rayne, and you hid that from me _knowing_ this! You're just the same as everyone else, Moebius, the Elder God, Ariel, even _Kain_! You are a hypocrite! Claiming I should author my own history while urging me along the path _you_ have prescribed for me! Tell me the truth, or get out of my sight!" He ordered, summoning the Reaver, and pointing it at me.

My emotions are in a deluge of torment, I can barely think straight, I just want to break down and start sobbing until I disintegrate to nothing. I'm angry, hurt, guilty, afraid…and in agony. "Fine then!" I say, my voice choked with sobs I am trying desperately to fight back, "Do whatever you want! Rot here for all I care! _You_ may not care whether Nosgoth dies or not but _I_ do! _I'll_ find Janos Audrin _myself_!" I say.

And I leave. I spin my back to him on my heel, and step into the Window World, away from him. The tears come, I sob and wail, willing him not to hear me as I turn back the way we've come and I just run. The tears flow and will not stop.

I am alone, alone…again.


	20. Janos Audrin

_This isn't right._ My mind is telling me, but my legs are bearing me along swiftly, perhaps not so swift as to blur while I run back through the caverns that Raziel and I had just trekked, but swift enough that there would have been severe problems were I to try this in the physical world. As it is, I simply run right through random obstructions, feeling only slight resistance as apart of me runs through the walls of earth itself. One has to be concentrating upon its existence to allow physical objects like this to stop movement, and right now I'm only paying attention to the existence of the ground, if even that much. Magic works in the Window World just fine, it just doesn't work _through_ the Window World very well, so the wind magic I use to propel me does its job quite well enough.

_You should go back._ That voice, _my_ voice, goes on. _Tell him you're sorry._

Sorry for what? For wanting to save Nosgoth? For wanting to see a better future than the one I had to live through? Sorry for _that_?!

_Sorry for using him, even though you weren't aware of what you were doing at the time._

Does that excuse it though? Does that excuse the fact that he's right? That I _was_ using him for my own ends? Had I enough knowledge of this entire situation, were I _able_ to do so, would I be plotting something with him in it? I _am_ a hypocrite, and he's right, I'm just like all the rest. Just like Kain and Moebius and the Elder God.

_So fix it. Go back to him and fix it!_

I'd have to tell him though, I'd have to tell him everything, and I promised Mychala Vel I wouldn't. I promised her, and I already broke some of that promise by telling him as much as I did.

So tell him that much more, tell him you swore you wouldn't—

But no, I can't, I'd have to tell him who I swore _to_, and then he'd think it was Mychala Vel manipulating him through me. That'd be even worse than this. No, better me than Mychala Vel.

_You love him._

I have a more important obligation, a more important goal. One that he doesn't appear to share. I believed that's what he wanted too, how could he not? Does he think eternity will be any better in a doomed world?

Are you going to blame him for this then?

How can I? I'm the one at fault here, it's my mistake that's driven a wedge between us. That I promised I wouldn't tell him these things doesn't make it right. I shouldn't have made that promise in the first place, I should have anticipated…anticipated…

What? That you would become close? That he would fill the gaping loneliness inside you so completely that, for the first time since Ash died, you felt whole? With him? How could you have possibly known this would happen? You only meant to connect with him on a simple allied level, you didn't mean for it to progress this way, but it did, and the two of you are bound by far more than simple affection now.

I argue with myself, with my gut, it seems, until I've passed through the swamp and have found myself at the time-streaming chamber with the cracked wall.

My gut is telling me to go back, to somehow fix what happened, to not let this drive a wedge between us but…

My pride won't let me.

I'm angry, I'm guilty, and I was wrong. But I'm not going to go crawling back to him on my hands and knees like some besotted ditty and beg forgiveness.

Besides…I don't have that kind of courage.

That's the downside of growing up in such a tough environment. Being brave doesn't exactly coincide well with one's survival instinct to_ run_ and _hide_. There wasn't too much I had to fear, but being fearless and being brave are completely different, and what few fears I _did_ and, in some cases, still _do_ have…they practically rule me in ways I don't want to admit. But I will stand my ground when I must, it's just that…perhaps standing my ground against Raziel wasn't the best course of action to take.

Anger has abated, now I can only feel the sorrow and pain of guilt. I stare at the time-streaming chamber for a moment, and then a plan of action comes to mind even as I decisively step back into the physical realm.

It takes little more a simple fireball to decimate the wall. Sure I have to sort of…_encourage_ the decimation afterwards, but I clear it away without too much trouble. Even if Raziel _doesn't_ find a way to destroy it himself, at the very least he won't be stranded here in this timeline.

Of course, he might just interpret this as another act of manipulation on my part, but right now, I don't care.

The Present Markers have warn off by now. Wherever, or rather, _when_ever, I end up and whenever _he_ ends up…no longer matters.

&Raziel's POV&

I am angry, no, more than angry. A deluge of emotions is running through me, it is simply the fury that makes a physical appearance as I rip and tear my way through the warriors and demons along a path I am not entirely aware I'm following until I find myself coming upon what is, in fact, another forge for the Reaver.

Just as _she_ had suspected.

Anger, hate, pain, but, most of all, betrayal. My closest ally, my one _friend_, was no different than all the rest. The hypocrisy tears at me from the inside out, threatening to rip me apart even as thoughts defending her actions are fought back and drowned in my grief. I hold on to this anger for as long as I can, entering the forge.

She betrayed me, she _betrayed_ me! All this time, throughout everything we'd gone through and in spite of how open and honest she seemed…how she confided in me about her past, why her terror of demons overwhelms her...she showed me her weaknesses just as often as she showed me her strengths. And through the entire charade she—

She's gone.

—kept me ignorant of what I wanted, what I truly _needed_ to know. She's still keeping it from me, which means she doesn't want me to know. She wants me to find out for myself because that'd tie in so well with the fate _she_ would—

She's gone.

—have prescribed for me. She—

Is gone.

No…no…NO! I don't need her! So what if she's gone!? Good riddance! It's like having Kain at my hip in female form, biding her time, waiting for when my path takes her to where she wants to be. She _used_ me! She—

Her existence itself, vanishes, completely. And the absence pierces me to the core. It is almost like a physical thing, perhaps it _is_. Before, she had simply left, her presence distant. Now it has gone altogether, telling me she did exactly what she said she would. She has gone to see Janos Audrin herself…without me. Passing back in time so that her very existence in this time stops altogether. And with her presence, her existence, leaves, also, all the reasons, all the excuses I made, for driving her away in the first place.

_No…NO! No, Rayne come back! Come ba—_ But when I look down at my wrist, the golden circle that was her 'Present Marker' is gone, no longer connecting us in that method. I close my eyes, the internal torment of her absence driving me to my knees, even as I will the marker to return with all my mind, all my power.

But, we're linked another way, right? This Shaman's Eye, it links me to her somehow. I concentrate but…it's no use, and I resort to talking to myself, or, more specifically, to that wretched _Eye_. "Bring her back!" I yell, "If you are some unlimited power inside of me, if you have any consciousness of your own, any will to act of your own volition, then for once do what I _want_ you to rather than bestow cursed gifts upon me that I do not ask for! Bring her back!" I beg aloud.

And then, inexplicably, I hear a voice, like my own voice, but strong in my mind, speaking, not entirely in words, per say, but in such a way that I realize I am not thinking these thoughts on my own. These thoughts have help.

_Well I tried,_ My own thoughts seem to tell me, _But for the first time she wouldn't listen to me._

&Rayne's POV&

You're an idiot.

I know.

You should have gone back.

Too late now.

Go back.

I can't. He won't forgive me, I'm on my own now.

You can't do this without him, you know that.

He doesn't share my sentiments I'm afraid, and I have no right to force him to help me. I have no right to go back and so much as look him in the face.

I have returned to that same ledge that Raziel and I had parted upon, back in time I don't know _how_ long before the time that chamber is going to bring him…if he uses it. I think it'll send him to this time frame, but I'm not sure. My actual knowledge of time travel is limited to what I have been doing with it. The machine _seemed_ to indicate this time, but there's no way I could have known for sure.

The edifice is whole, unmarred by whatever cataclysm shall someday destroy this place. Yet the balcony remains as impossible to reach as ever, though I can't help but admire the beauty of the snow and ice. Especially now that I have a sunstone to ward off the gods-forsaken _cold_.

However, one sight does mar the beauty of the scene. The poles upon which bodies of this time's generation of vampire are everywhere, and their souls cry out for retribution and release. I cannot, in good conscience, leave them like this. I get to work, jumping from plot, to plot of staked vampire bodies, singing their souls to release and their bodies to ash while destroying the wooden frames. Naturally I have some, ahem, _opposition_, to this action, but a few raised vampire corpses put a stop to that, and I draw the blood from my darklings' kills into my own body for strength and sustenance, even while I wish for actual human food. It'd be nice to have the luxury, but even in Nosgoth's future, blood is easier to get than food, especially as a vampire.

Still in my vampire form, I seek out some way into the mountain. I may have some strong wind magic, but it wasn't going to propel me all the way up _there_ without problems. And I wasn't about to try teleporting somewhere there _might_ be a chair or, gods forbid, an ancient _vampire_ in the way.

I find a path, though. Blocked, but I'm able to move through it through the Window World, and I find myself inside the structure, in a chamber clearly meant for winged beings. I begin jumping, my wind magic giving me the ability to propel myself as if I _did_ have wings, especially with so many areas I can hold onto. Eventually I reach the top, and I find myself facing a set of double doors. Locked, but this time the key is a cloven hand, the mark of an older vampire, rather than the Reaver. I press it, and the doors open.

I feel nervous, hard not to when I'm about to meet _the_ Janos Audrin. I don't know whether to expect a demon or an angel, either way, there's no turning back now.

His back is to me when I enter the balcony, he appears to be looking down from shadows, invisible to anyone looking up, but everything up here is clear to his own eyes. He dresses in a white robe, and from his back are folded a pair of angelic, black wings. His flesh is blue, that I can see even from here, and his hair is dark but for edges on either side, hinting at streaks of white.

"Janos Audrin?" I ask.

"I have…been wondering when you'd come, if you'd come. You have no idea how much I feel soothed by the miracles you worked to free my people. I am in your debt, Soul Singer." He says, speaking the name with reverence, even as my memories of how Mychala Vel betrayed him return to me. He turns around.

"Janos Audrin," I say, taking a deep breath, "My name is Rayne, and I'm from the future."

&Raziel's POV&

"You…_are_ alive!?" I gasp, almost not wanting to believe this, if only to save myself from the realization that, my entire life, I have been sharing my body with another entity, another _thing_, the very _thing_ that is responsible for my condition.

_I am you, you are me. We are one. You only now perceive me as separate because that has become your wish. We are separate in one sense, but the same in another. You hear me now as a separate thing because you seek me._ It answers, using my own inner monologue to do so, but the longer I listen to it, the more it seems to obtain its own voice, its own presence, somehow.

"You are the Shaman's Eye?" I ask, hoping to clarify just to make sure.

_A name given to me by the San'ghri. I am as you say I am._ Whatever consciousness it _has_, however, seems broken and incomplete in a way. As if it is not entirely a separate entity, but possesses enough self-intelligence to seem like one in a way. It is strange, yet rather comforting. At least it is not quite so sentient to consider taking me over. At least, I hope not.

"Why can't you bring her back then?" I ask it, staring blankly at the dormant forge, willing her to appear.

_Trying. She will not listen. She desires return but believes she does not have the option._ It answers.

"Tell her I don't care anymore! Tell her I just want her to come back!" I exclaim.

_I am her mind speaking to her, strengthening her own doubts of this action as much as I can. My ability to speak with her possesses limit. I do not speak to her as I speak to you now._ It answers.

"Then, then can't you bring her back with this power you are suppose to have!?" I demand angrily.

_Power must have hands to work it. I am not what I once was, I am semi-sentient, but not enough. I am without hands, I am without __**her**__._ And, somehow, I understand. For all Rayne's talk about this power being mine, that she's simply borrowing it, the fact is…this power is _hers_. I cannot use it, and it cannot use its own power with whatever small amount of consciousness it has, only she can, and she is able to shape it however she sees fit. _I, need, her._ It says, its voice coming it short, firm bursts with each word.

"Then why? Why are you in _my_ body?" I ask, "Why choose _me_?"

_I choose nothing. Decisions are not mine, I am…broken._ It says.

"You mean there are other pieces of you?" I ask it, baffled by what it's trying to tell me. But instead of answering through words, I suddenly understand what it's trying to tell me. It does not have the _capacity_ to make its own decisions, there is not enough of a consciousness within it to do so. It's broken, meaning it is not a whole entity.

Or rather, a wholly _separate_ entity.

"So who did decide? Who decided to give you to me?" I ask it.

_Rayne's predecessor._ It answers.

"That tells me nothing! I don't know who your owner was before her, how is that suppose to explain my question!?" I demand, feeling angry and frustrated. But I know it's not trying to skate around my questions, it simply hasn't enough of its own thought to answer them the way I want it to.

This isn't a question it can answer, I can almost feel it's confusion as it attempts to gather what few thoughts of its own that it _does_ have. Then, more my own voice than it speaks in my mind, telling me what I already knew but helped along by this Shaman's Eye. _If you want to see her again, ignite the forge and seek out Janos Audrin._

I sigh, but bury my questions. I want answers, but not if they're going to cost me Rayne's very existence. I press on.

&Rayne's POV&

Janos has led us into a rather more…_comfortable_ enclosure, away from the balcony, and from his stores he produces bottles of preserved blood for the both of us, but I decline, telling him I've already had quite enough blood on my way up here.

I start at the beginning, and I start by telling him who I am, or rather, _what_ I am, and how it came to be that one person can be both vampire _and_ Soul Singer at the same time. I don't go into details, but I do explain the looping of Nosgoth's timeline. However, when my story comes to Raziel and Mychala Vel, I falter. Janos holds up a hand, however, and says, "There is no need to go on. I believe I know who you met." He tells me.

I look away. I want to tell him, but can I? Would he understand?

"She didn't betray us after all, did she?" My eyes are back upon Janos, who is looking at me with a knowing expression on his face, and the beginnings of a smile. "I believe…no, I _know_, if your Matron's true intention were to decimate our entire race, it would have been done. And yet, here you are, living proof that, while we may not flourish, we, at the very least, exist in Nosgoth's distant future. But your description of that future does not bode well. Something must have gone terribly wrong, and I fear I may know what that something is." He says.

I bite my lip and nod, "Yes, the pillars…fall."

"Then, we must act. The binding must be secured, we must find a way to prevent their collapse!" He says with determination.

"No." I say, and he blinks, shocked at my reaction, "Now more than _ever_ do I believe trying to prevent the fall of the pillars is _exactly_ what our enemies want us to do. I don't think there's any way of stopping that, I think that, no matter what actions we take, the pillars will fall regardless. The pillars were a temporary fix to a problem that's only gotten worse, and now that we realize there even is a problem, I think we should fix that problem, permanently, rather than relying on the pillars as Nosgoth has done for so long." I tell him.

"There is no alternative." He says, shaking his head, "We sought every other method to topple our enemies, but it was impossible, for they, too, had a Soul Singer on their side." He explains.

"Klossa Vel." I murmur, nodding with a slight shudder. "She sympathized with the Hyldan but…but _why_?" I ask, "Mychala Vel told me the Hyldan weren't evil before they were banished into the Abyss, why did the wars occur in the first place? What happened to make them attack you or you attack them?" I question.

"I…do not know." He admits regretfully, "I was born during the war itself, I do not remember ever being taught why it was our two races could not live together. Perhaps we are simply natural enemies, and our battles escalated to such a degree that the fighting had to be stopped. I do not know…why, Mychala Vel sided with us while her sister sympathized with the Hyldan, perhaps that is something you must ask _her_."

"I _have_." I say, "And she says it is because the vampires are vital to Nosgoth itself, though I don't think that has anything to do with the pillars. Why the Hyldan _aren't_, she didn't say, though she probably doesn't know herself. She admitted she didn't know why the vampires _were_, but that the continuation of this race is absolutely essential, even though the decimation is somewhat necessary so that future blood witches can ease the curse." I explain.

"We…are vital to the pillars." He tells me. "At the time of the binding, nine guardians were chosen, but their obligation did not sustain them, and eventually they took their own lives. Unfortunately, the pillars choose their guardians from birth, and in this day and age, vampires are no longer born. The humans have taken the pillars for themselves, wholly ignorant of their true purpose. They are not competent to serve, it is their hands which weaken the binding. But, I see, you already understand this." He sighs. "For years I have been waiting, loosing faith. What you have told me is not encouraging." He says.

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe there's any way to save the pillars. Perhaps if we could return their guardianship to the vampires, the Circle wouldn't be quite so susceptible to the manipulations of the dark forces that are responsible for all this. But not even the pillars are suppose to last forever, nothing is." I tell him.

"The prophesies tell of a savior, the Scion of Balance, who, armed with the Reaver, will drive the Hyldan back from whence they came by defeating their champion. Unfortunately, the prophesies also say he will be defeated _by_ the champion as well. The duel fortunes are confusing, perhaps that means whatever we do now will affect what happens between those two champions." He says, and I have a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach, as if I know where this is going, and I _don't_ like it.

"Do you know who the champions are?" I ask him.

"I know Raziel." He answers, and my breath catches in my throat. "I see you have met him as well."

_Yet another fate that has been forcibly written for him. Just how many pens are upon his paper?_ I ask myself, feeling a pang of longing that I fight against. "Janos…do you…do you know who Raziel is?" I ask.

"Raziel is the Scion of Balance, he is the key to our salvation, but…perhaps in the future you know, it is the Hyldan champion which defeats him." Janos says, looking regretful.

_That's not what I mean_. I think, but I say nothing. "I don't know, I just know that there has to be another way. If there's anything you can tell me, about the Hyldan, the pillars, Raziel, anything! Maybe about the dark forces responsible for subverting the pillars themselves." I say, and he seems to consider me for a moment.

"There are…texts." He says, "Hidden away within an ancient citadel. I can give you a special key to find them, but many of the books are written in the language of the Soul Singers, I could not tell you what is in them. Perhaps they were given to us to keep safe for you and are simply awaiting your arrival. But…won't you stay a little while? Surely your time is not so short, and it has been a long time since I had any company at all." He tells me.

I suddenly realize just how tired I am, and how long it's been since I've had any sleep at all. I'm use to the sort of life where sleep is dangerous and one must learn to function on as little as possible, but the body needs rest, and within the sanctuary of a safe haven, there is no reason for it not to take advantage of that. "I am…wary." I say, and he smiles.

"Then stay and rest awhile. I hope you don't mind dust so much, it's been a long time since this place has been cleaned. But the bed is still good, though the air is stale." He tells me.

"Hey, I'd be happy just sleeping on this sofa. Lead the way." I tell him.


	21. Red Eyes

It's been two days since I arrived at Janos Audrin's mountain retreat. I don't know exactly when the time-streaming device is suppose to send whoever uses it, but I know I at least arrived earlier than it would have. The way I see it, if another day passes and Raziel has not arrived…he never will.

_Is it true what they say? Are we to blind to find a way?_

_Fear of the unknown clouds our hearts today._

_Come into my world, se through my eyes._

_Try to understand, don't want to loose what we have._

Janos has enjoyed the company, I can tell. He doesn't ask me about Mychala Vel or anything else, instead he asks me about more…normal things, I suppose. About my parents, what they were like, how was their relationship? My most treasured possession is a locket with their pictures in it. In one side, the two of them are together, wrapped in one another's arms. My mother's green eyes dancing as my father's claws comb themselves into her red hair, and in another the two of them are holding a baby girl with slitted amber eyes and patches of red hair growing in every-which way. Thank god my hair tamed itself down when I got older and stays straight.

_We've been dreaming but who can deny?_

_It's the best way of living, between the truth and the lies._

The two of them look so happy together, though, and the pictures entrance Janos, not just because they are photographs rather than paintings, but because of the fact that a human and a vampire can be so in love with one another. I've let him keep it for a while. The locket is enchanted so it'll never break, and even if it weren't, Janos is very graceful and competent with his claws. He's able to open and close the locket without fear of breaking it. Thankfully it's large enough that doing so wouldn't be quite so difficult either way. Me, I still have to return my hands to their human shape before handling it.

_See who I am,_

_Break through the surface_

_Reach for my hand_

_Let's show them that we can_

_Free our minds and find a way._

_The world is in our hands,_

_This is not the end._

We've been playing a game, a board game Janos calls 'chess'. I've never played, the only game I ever learned to play was a card came called 'poker', and that was nothing compared to _this_. I've lost spectacularly to Janos 10 times now, but I don't mind. Janos talks enough during these matches to make them worthwhile. At one point I have him describing the Hyldan as how he remembered them. Vicious, spiteful, with ruddy flesh and bat-like wings. Their eyes were a ghastly green and their teeth were fangs all around rather than the pointed canines of the vampires.

_Fear is withering the soul at the point of no return._

_We must be the change we wish to see._

_I'll come into your world, se through your eyes._

_I'll try to understand, before we lose what we have._

Some of his descriptions were chilling. They, apparently, had both higher and lesser breeds. The higher breeds enslaved their lesser cousins and would sacrifice them without a second thought, treating them like animals so that, in some cases, the lesser breeds had actually aided the vampires during the war, if only to take revenge upon their oppressive masters. The vampires had a hierarchy, but it was small. They had a king and a queen, sometimes both would rule together, sometimes the queen would be more apt to rule alone, sometimes the king, but that was about it. The rest of the vampire population were in the sort of 'council' position. Everyone had a say, even the children were allowed a voice at times.

_We just can't stop believing because we have to try._

_We can rise above their truth and their lies._

Janos remembers the queen who ruled before the vampire race was cursed. She had tried to sacrifice herself to the curse and protect her people, but it didn't quite work. Janos still believes that, had the queen not done so, their plight would have been far worse. Leaving no heir and a king whose suicide followed the queen's death, the vampire race relied on a democratic system of government, holding on to government in general as tightly as they could before everything simply fell apart and there were so few of them left that the idea of a government was unnecessary.

_See who I am,_

_Break through the surface_

_Reach for my hand,_

_Let's show them that we can_

_Free our minds and find a way._

_The world is in our hands_

_This is not the end._

For a long time Janos believed the only reason Mychala Vel taught them how to propagate through humans was due solely to obligation and the fact that the curse was the work of her own flesh and blood. He doesn't tell me this outright, but from what he _has_ said to me, I can deduce that much. I'd like to tell him more, to tell him that Mychala Vel still loves him, that she never truly betrayed him, she was simply following a higher obligation and could not allow her personal feelings to get in the way of that.

I hear their silence

_Preaching my blame._

_Will our strength remain_

If their power reigns?

There has to be some other way of driving these dark forces back aside from restoring the pillars, I just wish I could think of _what_. Janos is little help, he still believes we can _save_ the pillars, but that's an event I doubt even_ I_ could change. It's going to happen no matter what we do, so the clearest course of action is their restoration. How? By killing Kain and allowing new guardians to be born, obviously. But even if they _were_ restored, would the damage not already have been done? Yes, the pillars are the lock, and even without them the doors themselves do not open easily, but the curse on the land itself will be released from that, and demons will roam the land.

And what of Raziel?

See who I am

_Break through the surface._

_Reach for my hand,_

_And show them that we can_

_Free our minds and find a way._

_The world is in our hands._

_This is not the end._

(Song: See Who I Am, By Within Temptation)

"Your song," Janos says, suddenly alerting me to the fact that I have an audience, "It is beautiful, and yet so sad. Not since you arrived has a single smile brightened your features. Are the troubles of Nosgoth truly so hard upon your heart?" He asks.

I turn away from him, my eyes upon the sight below where I see the Sarafan bringing more vampire corpses to replace the ones I had sung into ashes, setting them up upon hard poles staked in the snow. They've been mustering their forces for some reason, and I've begun to feel a sense of…urgency, as though time is slowly growing shorter.

I don't answer Janos, I don't know that I can. 'Oh me and Raziel had a little lover's spat and I'm depressed about it because I don't think I'll ever see him again.' Oh yeah, _that_ would go over well. Janos would probably just repeat what my own head's been telling me all along. _"Go back to him, stupid!"_ In layman's terms of course, Janos isn't going to call me stupid in so few words as that.

"I'm going to have to leave here soon." I tell him. "I've lingered longer than I should have."

"Do you intend to visit the Vampire Citadel?" He asks me.

"Yeah, I'll see what those books of yours have to tell me." I answer, fingering the small pendant hanging from my ear that is the key to the library within the Citadel. A collection of jewels held together by crescent shaped gold, it resembles the design of the runes for the elements, with the center jewel taking on the appearance of the character for Phantasm, or the Spectral Plane. It's beautiful, which is the reason I'm wearing it rather than keeping it safe in Subspace. But an enchantment to make sure I don't easily loose it is enough to make me feel better about risking it like this.

"Before you go, there's…something _else_ I'd like to give you." Janos says, and I turn to find him holding a glass of blood, like the ones he typically drinks from. Only instead of drinking it himself, he's offering it to me.

I take the blood, wondering what's so special about it that he'd give it to me with a hint of trepidation and hesitancy. I take a deep sniff, and my eyes widen as I realize just _whose_ blood this is. "This is—"

"I remember you telling me how you are able to obtain many things from one person's blood, many more than a Soul Singer due to your vampiric half. Perhaps my blood will give you something you may need in your quest." He says.

I stare at him, and for the first time in a while, I find myself smiling, feeling more than just a little honored by this gift. I bring the wineglass to my lips, and I drink. I allow some of the blood to spill from the glass down my neck so that it might sink directly into my skin, and soon I have drained the last of the ancient vampire's blood.

The wineglass falls from my hands.

It shatters on the floor.

Agony as I have never felt it before rips through my very _being_. My heart is beating fire and acid through my veins, my vision grows dark, am I screaming? I can't tell, the pain is so great, please, please just let me die, let me die and make it stop!

Just before passing out, I sense a glimmer of something, the reestablishment of a connection once lost. I can't think straight, all I know is the pain, the agony of fire burning me from the inside out.

"Rayne!"

&Raziel's POV&

As I depart from the infernal time-streaming chamber, I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that _this_ is the era I have sought for so long. What is more, Rayne is here, and her presence, however distant, is a soothing balm upon the wound that opened when she disappeared. To say I am not still angry with her, however, would be a lie. I am, but I'm not going to force the truth from her if the cost is so high. I have decided she must have a very good reason for keeping these secrets from me, but I would very much like to hear it from _her_ rather than attempt getting that information from an entity with barely enough thought to possess the semblance of memory.

The connection is distant, but I know where she is. Even if she hadn't told me, already, where she'd be going, I would know. I can feel her, and finding her will not be difficult.

I do not, however, take two steps forward before a scream of agony pierces me to the core. I remember this scream, it is like the one I followed when I first met her, but different in its own nature, rather than in the way I'm hearing it. This is a scream, not of fear, but of agony, and urgency overcomes me as, once more, the Reaver itself pushes me to answer the call. This time, however, we are of one mind, and I run as fast as I can, faster than that, towards the mountain. And the Reaver aids me in its own way. Rather than devouring the souls itself, it allows me to feed from them to replenish my health so I can continue to use it in order to make my way far more swiftly and easily than I would have been able to.

_Hurry!_ My mind tells me, and whether it's the Eye or my own thoughts, it doesn't matter to me anymore. _Hurry! Hurry!_

&Rayne's POV&

I don't understand, I _can't_ understand, this shouldn't be happening! Why is there so much pain!? What went wrong!? I shouldn't even be getting sick from drinking blood too powerful anymore, not with the Cardikamon. I'm immune to poisons, whatever they might be, anything Janos might have put in his blood, accidentally or on purpose, shouldn't be effecting me one way or another. I should be adapting! That's what the Cardikamon is _for_! Why is this happening? Is it truly Janos's blood? What!?

My markings have appeared all over my body, but they do not glow. Instead they seem to suck light from around them, turning black with edges taking on a red hue as though inflamed. Tiny amounts of blood seeps from all over my body, and, touching the tears falling from my eyes, I discover they, too, are blood.

The pain is incredible, and I've just barely returned to consciousness. Janos is there, his expression more than a little worried, but relieved when I open my eyes to look at him. "Rayne!" He gasps, "My child! Thank god, what has happened!? This cannot be a normal occurrence!" He exclaims.

"I—" I cough, choking on blood which comes out upon Janos's white robe. He doesn't even flinch at this, his attention upon me completely. "Don't know—" I gasp, "This hasn't—shouldn't—I should—be adapting!" I get out with difficulty. My throat feels like it's trying to cave in on me, and fear takes me as I wonder how long I'd be able to survive if it _did_, and if help could be found in time.

I have to contact Mychala Vel, she's the only one who can help me. But how am I suppose to do that when I can barely breathe?

"Child, I am truly sorry! Had I any idea this would happen—but I don't understand! You are a vampire, my blood should be empowering!" He exclaims.

"D-don't, know!" I gasp, "{Help!}" I gasp out in Hametsu, willing my voice to carry to Mychala Vel, though I know it doesn't. "{Help!}" I try again, but I am unsure either way. Conciousness is fading again, and Janos carries me over to the back wall, laying me down upon the sofa that's there. He then rushes in the direction of his store room. Delirium strikes, I am seeing shapes in my mind while my actual vision fades in and out. Horific shapes, a monster, a demon, no…a _Hyldan_? Or is it? What is it? I don't know, there is fire, rage, hatred. A demon, a woman, tainted. Her red slits laced with shocks of violet, her long white hair falls into a dark, chilling shade of that same violet at its tips. She smiles, her canines are pointed, but she is no vampire.

**_Tainted to the core_.**

"Here!" I hear Janos gasp, and I feel human blood being poured onto my skin, sinking into my flesh, replacing the blood that I am loosing slowly. The virtual claw that had its hold around my lungs is released, I can breathe, but that's about all it does. I gasp the air into my lungs, my head clearing with the return of oxygen. Janos pours more of this blood onto my skin, and his face comes into view. I feel my body return to its human shape in response to this, the pain ebbs, as do the hallucinations, but I am so weak, I can barely move. And the _pain_…

**I am greater than she ever was. Than she ever will be. I am greater than you, child.** I gasp out another call to Mychala, but I get no answer. She can't hear me, she can't help me. I am alone. Alone in the pain, the agony, the confusion. I am utterly alone…

"_Rayne!"_ My eyes widen in shock through the red tears of my pain. Raziel? _"I'm coming! Just hold on! Don't die, __**please**__, just don't die!"_ I hear him, I can hear his voice, he came, he's here, he decided to come after all he—

_**You, are, nothing.**_

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" I scream, clutching my heart as I feel my eyes bulging with the pain that has suddenly seized me up again. I pass out.

When I awake again, he's there at my side.

&Raziel's POV&

The tedium of crafting my path up to the balcony is agony. Knowing she's there, just up there out of my reach, in danger, in pain. I cannot fathom what is happening to her, and I do not try. But a fresh shriek of agony causes me to redouble my efforts.

And then, finally, I am there.

I waste no time, I place my claw upon the circular lock and the door opens.

I see the balcony itself, looking out over the lake below, but that is all I see before I turn about to find what can only be _the_ Janos Audrin bent over a long red-velvet sofa upon which I know, without even seeing her, Rayne is lying.

Janos looks up at my approach, and his eyes have grown wide, "Raziel!?" He gasps, "My child, what have they done to you!?" He exclaims, but I have no interest in this.

"Never mind me! What happened to Rayne!?" I demand, rushing to her side as Janos moves to give me room. The sight that greets me is the worse thing I feel I've ever seen in my life.

The markings that were once so beautiful have become black and ugly, as though burned or gouged into her flesh with a needle, injecting poisonous dye into the flesh for a lethal tattoo. They are inflamed, blood and puss seep from them, and parts of her flesh have darkened as though rotting away. Tears of blood seep from eyes that are closed, consciousness lost, though an expression of agony mars her features.

"I do not know." Janos answers me as I clutch Rayne's hand, willing her to take power from the Shaman's Eye, to help her, to do _something_. "All I can think of is that she has reacted badly to the blood I gave her. I sought to empower her through my own blood, hoping it might help. She drank it, and then collapsed in agony. I do not know what is happening, had I any idea my blood would have this effect—if there's _anything_ we can do to help her, you must know _something_!" He implored, his own expression worried and fearful.

"I don't understand, how can she be having a bad reaction? She's a Master Soul Singer, her body should be able to adapt to anything!" I exclaim, "Rayne, Rayne wake up! Tell me what to do!" I plead, slipping an arm beneath her shoulders and bringing her upright, holding her close.

Her eyes open, and I feel relief wash over me even as a shudder runs through my body at the sight of her eyes. Black, completely black, but for a single red slit in each eye. Those eyes are chilling, but I don't know why. She stares at me, there is pain, but also relief. "Raziel…" She breathes.

"Rayne, what's going on? What happened?!" I exclaim.

"I don't…know…Hurts…so much…" She whispers, clutching my cowl with barely enough strength to hold her hand there.

_What's going on!?_ I demand to the Eye, _Why's she in pain, what happened to her!?_

The response I get chills me to the bone.

"_She has been tainted and the demon within her is attempting to take over her body."_


	22. This Is Goodbye

She is sleeping now, fitfully, fighting, struggling without knowing what it is she is struggling against. I could not bring myself to tell her, knowing she would panic horribly. The Eye has told me there is no chance of the demon taking over now, that as long as the power she has taken from it stays in her body she will be alright, but that when she awakens, she will have to destroy the demon herself, and I will have to tell her it's there.

My god, is this how she felt when I tried to make her tell me my supposed destiny?

"There must be something we can do to help." Janos says, alerting me to the fact that he is there. I turn to face him, though I stay knelt there beside her, her human hand in my cloven one. I know she no longer needs physical contact to access the power of the Shaman's Eye, but I feel as though, were I to let go, she would slip away from me again, and I can't stand the thought of that.

"I've already done what I can. She's safe…for now." I tell him.

"You…appear close." Janos says, "Were you separated?" He asks. The question pierces me.

"We…had a disagreement. It all seems so pointless now." I answer, turning back to the look of pain upon Rayne's face. "How could this have happened?" I murmur to myself.

"I see. When she first came here two days ago, she bore a great sadness, and there was a look of guilt upon her face whenever she thought I wasn't looking. I won't ask you what happened." He sighs, "For, thousands of years I have waited, alone, here, loosing faith. At the time of the binding, nine guardians were called to serve the pillars, and I was summoned as the tenth guardian, the keeper of the Reaver, the weapon of our salvation." He tells me. "Over time our race died out. Until I alone remained, sustained only by my obligation to you, and by my guardianship of the blade. As our race dwindled, the humans prospered. I have watched, over the centuries, as our history faded into myth, and finally receded altogether. The humans have forgotten us entirely, and claim the pillars for themselves, wholly ignorant of their true purpose. To them, I am merely a devil, the origin of their vampire plague."

"And because the pillars choose their guardians from birth, they can no longer be served by vampires as vampires are no longer born." I say, remembering what Rayne had deduced from listening to Ariel's lament at the pillars.

"Correct, Raziel. This is the crux of our dilemma, and this is the terrible irony; With their vampire purge, the members of the circle have assaulted the very architects of the pillars they are sworn to protect. They have embarked on a treacherous path, with every vampire they kill, the humans are slitting their own throats." He sighs, and glances out towards the snowy ledge of his balcony, "They know I'm up here, and it terrifies them. They have this foolish notion that destroying me will somehow topple our entire bloodline. Thankfully we are not that fragile." He says.

"I've seen them mustering their forces in the village below." I say.

"Yes," He nods, "I don't know what they are plotting, but I fear our time may be bitterly short." He says, and I turn my attention back to Rayne.

"We must take her somewhere secure so she can fight this…_infection_." I say.

"She is as safe here as anywhere, and I have stores of blood we can use to replenish what she is slowly loosing." He tells me. "Raziel…she has told me…many disturbing things about the future. But perhaps we can change all of that. She believes the pillars will fall whatever we do, but I believe the binding can be secured. The Pillars are the lock." He says, walking over to a stone encasing not too far from the couch.

"And the Reaver is the key." I murmur, not moving from Rayne's side.

"Yes." He answers.

"The Reaver is here? Why do I feel nothing?" I ask as he opens the case, revealing the blade, but without the temporal distortion that had once accompanied my proximity to it.

"The most formidable weapon ever forged by our sword smiths. They infused the blade with vampiric energy, empowering the Reaver to drain our enemies of their precious lifeblood. Rayne's Matron, also had a hand in its creation." He says.

As Janos presents the blade, taking it from the casket and walking towards me, an inexplicable sense of dread creeps over me, more palpable than any I have felt before. I am at once horribly repelled by the sword, and yet, irresistibly compelled to touch it, to take it up. "Please," I say, drawing back from him, "Take it away from me."

I hear life, metal clinking upon metal, upon stone. A hammering against the door which opens only to the touch of a cloven hand.

_No_…

"I, fear you have been followed." Janos says, setting the sword back in its place.

The door bursts inward, five armored men, four in white and gold while the fifth in red, the obvious leader, enter the balcony. I advance, intent upon stopping them, but, instead, Janos stops me.

"You must save yourself, Raziel." He tells me.

"Janos, NO!" I cry out, even as his telekinetic powers envelop me, and he teleports me from the sight of danger.

While leaving Rayne to suffer their mercy right along with him.

&Rayne's POV&

The violet light is piercing, burning through my eyes and shooting an arrow into my heart. Those arrows come at random bursts, preventing me from getting use to them, from ignoring them. As I slowly regain enough of myself, I use the power from the Shaman's Eye still circulating in my system to draw up a barrier within myself against those mental arrows. The barrier stops them, but the source of my pain is not gone.

I feel a clawed hand wrap tightly around my neck, I strike against it and it shrinks back. The violet light is fading, but the red presence is there. I see them connected, the violet and the red. I know what the red is, but my mind will not allow me to acknowledge that understanding. In spite of the pain, my mind is oddly clear, or numb. Raziel is still near enough, I am drawing more power from the Shaman's Eye, as much as I can, even unconscious, to combat whatever this is that's attacking me.

Because it's more than just Janos's blood, though what—no, _how_ it entered my body, I do not know.

_**Think you can fight me, child? You have no idea of my power. You cannot hope to save Nosgoth, you were never meant to. You are nothing.**_

The violet presence redoubles its efforts, but I resist. I become vaguely aware of its attempt to break me down, to push the red deeper within me. _That is the more dangerous presence, drive it out first, then focus upon the other._ My own gut seems to tell me.

"My god," through the images in my mind, my eyes catch an image of their own, the sight of a red figure, a demon? No, armor, this is a man. "What has this monster done to you?" A hand upon my cheek, a sense of something beneath a glass surface. Who is this? I do not know, my mind, numb, focused inwardly, cannot make the connection. Not now, I have to fight.

It's futile, child. Give in now, and you will be as my daughter. Resist overlong, and you will be little more than the mindless slaves you have been fighting against.

_Do not give in!_ I gather the energy of the Shaman's Eye into a concentrated force, and I set it upon the violet presence, intent upon driving it back. I hear an unearthly scream in my mind at the strike, and I know I hit home. The violet presence is gone now, completely and utterly, but with it, so leaves the numbness that has kept the one horrific realization at bay.

Now that the greater threat has been dealt with, the Shaman's Eye relaxes its life-saving grip upon my mind, and I know what the red presence is. I know, without any room for doubt, and my horror overflows my ability to think straight, to destroy it the same way I had driven the violet presence away. As a result of my panic, it comes closer, deeper inside of me, I fight, both against the demon, and my own terror.

"You will _pay_ for this you fiend!" A familiar voice exclaims, and it is followed by sounds of pain from another. "Hold him!"

"Look at his black heart, how it still beats!" Another voice, one I do not recognize at all, says.

I am returning to proper consciousness, and the fact is not as appealing as it might seem. Fully aware of the demon's presence, my energy focused solely upon fighting its attempts to take over my very being, I am at the mercy of Raziel's Sarafan self.

And Janos…his heart ripped from his body, beats within the hand of his own son.

I feel a rumbling as the fortress itself prepares to collapse, enacting the cataclysm that Raziel and I had visited not so long ago. "The fiend intends to burry us alive, Raziel, we must get out of here!" Says one of the Sarafan.

"Remember the sword! Hold this, Zephon!" He orders, handing Janos's Heart to his brother, and rushing over to me.

"Raziel no! She is beyond hope, you know this! Let her die with her lord!" One of the Sarafan says, but Raziel ignores him and gathers my limp body into his arms. Tears of blood flow from my eyes as I realize the true horror of what Raziel had just done.

"You…killed…he was…your…" I gasp out.

"Silence." He hisses at me, even as he rushes out of the balcony, following a path back to the ground that was not there when I first came. "You should be _thanking_ me. I don't know _why_ I'm saving you. Dumah's right, I should leave you here to die." He snarls under his breath. His face is a mask of bitterness and anger as he keeps his eyes ahead of him, rushing through the paths and bridges I don't ever remember seeing.

It appears as though my last act of rejection was the final straw, and that love which developed through the future Reaver's influence has twisted itself into duel feelings of both love _and_ hate.

_I'd choose death over tainting._ I think, drawing power from behind the dormant glass of this Shaman's Eye, deliberately calling it to help numb my mind against the terror so that I might better combat the demon that is trying to take over.

It's gotten deeper, fueled by my pain and fear. I gather force, and unleash it upon the demon to drive it back. It works, but a bit of the demon is torn and remains. That small bit dissipates itself, and through my body it laces a new wave of agony. I let out a small cry of pain, my head lolling back as tears of blood flow freely from my eyes in a new burst. Convulsively, perhaps, and more out of instinct than anything else, Raziel clutches me to his chest, bringing my body up so that my head falls into the crook of his neck and he holds me tightly, as though his arms can protect me from the demon.

"Why? Why do I still love you!?" He hisses, more to himself than to me.

Perhaps it would have been easier for the both of us if he never did.

The Sarafan soldiers follow a path through the mountains that neither I nor Raziel were able to access. A secret passage that leads them to a shortcut back to a small encampment where Raziel grabs a large, heavy blanket and wraps it around me. He needn't have bothered, the sunstone upon my finger is more than enough defense against the cold. But then, how's he suppose to know that?

None of the other four soldiers say anything more about Raziel's bringing me with them, but I know they would have liked nothing more for him to leave me to rot away. They are more than just a little repelled by my state, it frightens them, sickens them, and confuses them as they don't understand what happened to me. Perhaps if Raziel _did_ simply leave me somewhere, his Wraith self could find me and help me. As it is, I have to make do with the small bits of power I'm able to obtain from the dormant Eye.

I've been able to numb my mind against the terror, work, instead, towards its extrication. The effect gives my face a blank, shut-down expression which twists only into pain as the demon fights back. I concentrate upon it and it alone, barely able to care about what happens outside my body. So long as the demon does not take me over from within.

I understand the second purpose for the blanket as we enter the Sarafan Stronghold. Covered about my head as it is, my hair is not immediately visible, and so anyone who remembers the red-haired threat within these walls would not recognize me. They probably wouldn't anyway, not with the markings upon my face undoubtedly twisting my features into something ugly and grotesque.

I don't know where Raziel takes me, but I gather as much power as I can from him. Slowly, yes, but I still gather it and I use it to push the demon further and further from its goal.

I push it as far from me as possible, and now all that's left is to destroy it, because an exorcism of this kind of demon would require external help that I do not have. But until the wraith Raziel comes to find me, I will not be able to gather the power needed to do the deed. Instead, I take what I can and erect a barrier to keep the demon where it is. It continues to lash out at me, but the pain is minute by comparison, and I feel some semblance of strength returning to me, even as Raziel lays me down upon a soft feather bed within a chamber whose properties are familiar, yet unlike what I had once awakened to when I first came to this past. It is far larger, and far more lavish than what I had found myself in before. The walls possess tapestries to keep them warm, and a fireplace as well as other bits of furniture. Some more personal effects make me wonder whether this is Raziel's own personal chamber.

Blood stains the sheets, and water mixes with them as Raziel begins dabbing a damp sponge upon my flesh to seep away the blood and sooth the enflamed skin. He brings the sponge to my face, wiping away the dried blood staining my cheeks. I close my eyes and let him, slowly gathering strength from him to replenish what I lost in the fight against the demon that's still inside of me.

"You see what your kind are like? You see the nature of those creatures you claim kinship with? He did this to you, didn't he? Are you still going to defend them?" Raziel asks, his voice low and angry.

I open my eyes and stare him full in the face, so he sees _exactly_ what they look like now. I don't know for sure, but I can imagine. Black to mark me as a blood witch, with only red slits, marking me as _tainted_. "A vampire couldn't have done _this_ to me, Raziel."

"You don't know what the vampires of this era are capable of." He tells me.

"Much as I'd love to argue philosophy with you, I'm afraid I don't have that luxury." I say, sitting up and clutching my head as pain laces through my body, the demon attempting to stop my movements, to lace itself through my body and try a different approach at making me its puppet. I fight it, focusing on staying overly aware of my own limbs and the contractions of their muscles.

Raziel grabs me by the arm. "You're staying right here." He snarls, his eyes flashing and his grip almost painful, but not quite.

"How do you expect to keep me here? By locking the _door_?" I ask him.

"You are in no condition to argue with me. You think you'll survive a _moment_ out there like this!? My brethren will cut you down without mercy!" He says.

He's right, and I know it. I can't risk the Window World like this, demons cannot enter it, and trying to do wouldn't destroy the demon, only exorcise it from me and release it into the rest of the world where it will be free to take hold of anyone in this fortress. While sending it after Moebius is definitely appealing, he wouldn't be able to withstand a tainting for two seconds, and _then_ where would we be? Nosgoth's great manipulator would no longer be a plaything, but a slave of the dark forces we are working against.

Aside from that, the Spectral Realm would only strengthen it, and I can't risk any other planes like this when I'm not nearly as masterful in shadow walking _them_ as I'd like to be. I'm stuck here, I'm almost helpless, and I'm at Raziel's mercy, at least until I can get rid of the demon.

"What did you do to me, Rayne?" He asks, and the question is so sudden it takes me a moment to figure out what he said. I look at him, bemused and unable to comprehend what he's talking about.

"_What_? What are you—"

"The last time we met, you don't remember? Several months ago, something…_significant_ happened between us, there was this blue light, and then you cut it off. You simply _stopped_ it and left. Now I can't feel you the way I use to. I use to know where you were, I could feel you when you came near, knew you, even when I found you in that cave. When we kissed that last time…that connection became even more powerful, but you simply cut it off! Now I can't feel you at all, I didn't even know you were in that monster's house until I saw you, and even _then_ I almost didn't recognize you. What did you _do_ to me!?" He demands, taking me by both arms now.

"You're _complaining_?" I ask, "One might think it'd be a _relief_. You know we can't be together why do you insist upon this!?" I demand.

"Because I love you, godd(beep)it, I love you and I don't know _why_!" He yells, and now there is pain in his eyes as well as anger and confusion. I feel guilt grip at me from the inside, but I can't tell him. How could he understand? How can I possibly _make_ him understand that it isn't _his_ love he feels, and it's not for _me_?

"True love is a _choice_, Raziel, what you feel isn't love, it's obsession, and it has to stop!"

"Do you really think it's that easy!?" He demands.

"No, but are you going to admit to me that you are ruled by your own emotions?" I ask him quietly.

He stares at me, his hands falling from my arms, and one of them goes to the sword on his hip, "Do you_ want_ me to kill you?" He murmurs.

"I'd rather _die_ than let this _thing_ take over my body, Raziel. But if you kill me now, the demon you see behind my eyes will be released, and I doubt you or anyone else in this stronghold would be able to withstand the tainting that I'm enduring right now." I tell him.

"Demon…" He recoils, staring at me in horror, "That's what—you're _possessed_!?" He gasps out.

"Not possessed, _tainted_. There's a difference, though it'd take a long time to explain." I answer, "But it's worse, much worse, because it is a lot harder to get rid of if it's a tainting rather than a possession. This demon will pass its taint from person to person like a disease, multiplying itself and taking more hosts. And it _will_, it would take over this entire fortress if I let it. My only option is to destroy it, and you better pray to that false, parasitic god of yours that I don't die before that happens." I say, clasping my right eye as a new wave of pain laces through my body. And with it, something else as well.

Strength.

I don't have much time left. I may be protected from the demon's influence, but the longer it stays within me the more my body is going to attempt to adapt it into my system. I may be free from the demon's own agendas, but absorbing the demon will permeate this nonetheless. It will make me stronger, faster, more powerful than ever before.

But I will be _tainted_. Prone to anger, violence, and attracted to ugliness and cruelty, I'd become less and less like myself and more like the demon in spite of my resolve. I would never be free of my nightmares, I may even stop sleeping altogether. The only release after that would be death.

I draw more power from Raziel to strengthen the wall and actively work against my body's adaptive qualities in order to slow the process down. It will do for now.

"Is it this demon which pains you so?" Raziel asks, looking torn between his own resolutions, and an inability to resist concern for my well-being.

I suppose I don't need to ask how powerful the Shaman's Eye can be that it's effecting Raziel so forcibly.

"What do you intend to do with me, Raziel? Do you think you can hide me here forever?" I ask him finally.

"No, just until you regain your strength. After that you can escape through the secret tunnels under the fortress. No one need know anything." He answers.

"And the other Sarafan who saw you bring me here?" I ask him, raising an eyebrow.

"So far as they know, I brought you here to try cleansing you, and when I could not do so without killing you, I did what I had to." He answers, not looking at me.

"Raziel…I can't stay here. I have to find…my friend." _I have to find __**your**__ future incarnation._

"I'll let you go when you're strong enough to overpower me again." He says. He leans forward, and I find his lips upon mine.

I don't stop him, I don't think I can. Instead, I find myself returning the kiss after hesitating a few moments. I feel confused at the same time my heart is beating faster and I feel a surge of emotion as I close my eyes and see, not the human Raziel, but the Wraith. I am overcome with a longing all my own, a wish to decrease proximity, to be close, to feel him all around me. He complies. His arms wrap around my form, pulling me into his lap, against his armored chest. His lips trail down from my mouth, kissing the edge of my jaw, gently nibbling my ear, and then moving down upon my exposed neck.

This isn't right.

In my mind I see the wraith, and while the soul is the same, the person isn't. It is for the wraith this emotion is setting me ablaze, not for the human. Yet, to my own senses, they are one and the same but for the difference of flesh and the state of the Shaman's Eye.

Raziel pulls his lips from my neck and returns them to kiss my own, but only briefly. "Stay here until your strength returns. No one enters my personal chambers, you'll be safe from discovery here. I have to go, but I'll return when I can." He says. We stand, he turns from me and aims for the door.

"Raziel," I say and he stops, turns to look at me, "I won't be here when you return." I tell him.

"Then this is goodbye." He says. He bows, like a knight saluting his lady, and he leaves.


	23. The Edge of the Coin

_**Unite me Child, for my breath stokes the core of this world.**_

_I'LL KILL THEM! I'LL KILL THEM ALL!_

I feel the Reaver fueled by my rage, my anguish, and the guilt that pierces me and drives me forward.

For it was I, my own past self, who had taken Janos's heart. I, who had taken Rayne, most likely, to her own execution. In the state she is in now, she is weak, so very weak. There would be no need for Moebius's staff, if it even works on her, she could be killed, and be unable to defend herself. The thought of loosing her…again…for good, I cannot bear it.

Why didn't I save her? Why didn't I go after them? My mind reeling by what I'd just seen, how could I _not_ notice them taking Rayne as well as Janos's own heart? Was I so blinded?

_There is no changing the then, only the now._ Sound advice, if only this Shaman's Eye could ease the bladed edge of self-loathing that washes over me as I fight my way through demons and Sarafan, my goal clear as day.

I will destroy these Sarafan dogs, I will protect Rayne from her inevitable execution, likely at Moebius's hands, and I will return the Heart of Darkness to Janos Audrin.

Please, Rayne, just hold on, don't die, don't leave me again.

"You have failed me, Raziel." My former 'master' snarls as I reenter the chamber beneath the pillars.

I've had enough of this.

"I wonder, Old One, did you truly resurrect me? Or were you simply there when I awakened from my torment in the abyss? I suspect you found me merely convenient, dropped in your lair by Kain, indestructible for some reason, a durable and gullible tool for you to manipulate. There is one thing I readily admit; I have been used by others time and again, but always I seem to stray from their path. What is it about me, Demon, that makes me such an unreliable instrument? Why do I survive one trial after another, on and on in an endless succession of humiliating deaths and resurrections? Well, I know the answer to that now, and I also know that it was not caused by whatever destiny fate has prescribed for me that Rayne claims should not exist, but that destiny was caused _by_ **it**. There's one thing I don't understand; if I was meant to die before taking a single breathe of life, why was I spared? Why give me the Shaman's Eye when it was never meant to happen? And why is it that _I_ am destined to be the one to kill Kain, when I was never meant to have a destiny in the first place? There seems to be more to this than I know, perhaps more than you know as well."

&Rayne's POV&

Strength replaces fragility, power replaces weakness, and worry gives way to fear as, slowly but surely, the demon is being absorbed into my body. I can feel it too. Already my emotions turn to rage, already I want to hate, to lash out at something…or some_one_. I resist, I focus all I am on the one thing the demon's influence cannot withstand; love. My love for my father, for my mother, my master, and even for Janos Audrin. As well as for…someone else. This emotion weakens, not only the demon, but me as well. Rejecting the demon's power gives me less of its benefits, so my little invisibility spell isn't completely reliable, and I'm risking discovery every second I dare stray far from the cover of solid objects and the shadows.

I wish I could feel where Raziel is as strongly as he can feel where _I_ am. You'd think I could, you'd think that, him being the great power, _I'd_ be able to sense _him_. But no, when it comes to our 'connection', all I can sense is whether or not the Shaman's Eye is close enough for me to use, and even then I can't tell _where_ it is, not any better than I can sense anyone else. Yes, Raziel's aura is unique, but unless I'm looking right at it that aura doesn't _feel_ any different from any other aura, human or vampire.

Of course, those senses _do_ help me keep out of sight as I know where another individual is when they're near me. But so far I've discerned no distinctive pattern in movements from anyone behind walls or on another floor that might indicate a certain wraith battling his way into the stronghold. My best bet is to hope that he comes in time, and that _he'll_ find _me_, even as I do my best to remember a way out of this place and somewhere safe where I can better concentrate on stopping the demon.

Even as I think this, however, I slip into another chamber,

And come face-to-face with Moebius.

"Ooooooh _hell_ no!"

&Raziel's POV – Sometime earlier&.

After traversing the mountains and finally reaching the stronghold, I can now better sense Rayne's presence. But this keep is a labyrinth, finding her, even with my unique ability to sense her presence, will not be easy. But at the very least, I know she is still alive.

Then, suddenly and inexplicably, I discover the Reaver, suspiciously laid across my path upon a circular pedestal of sorts. Again, I sense nothing of that temporal distortion, the peculiar sense of displacement I had felt when I encountered the Reaver in William's Chapel. Cornered here with the blade, I suffer the same nameless dread that I had experienced when Janos first presented the Reaver to me. I feel at once repelled by the blade, and yet…overwhelmingly compelled to seize it.

I hear the soft siren sound of the door's hinges opening, and the click of metal upon stone. I reach out to the blade.

"So, Raziel," I spin around, the Reaver materializing at my side, only to be dissipated by Moebius's accursed staff. "Here we are finally. You have no choice but to confront me now, and I am not so foolish as I have let you believe. We, have business to conclude." He says. He's not alone, I see, there is a Sarafan Priest with him. No doubt this is the infamous Malek, but he's not the more pressing threat here.

If Moebius is here, and Rayne is still alive, there's a good chance he has no idea she's here. How that's possible, I don't know. Perhaps she's found some way of hiding herself…but even then, wouldn't my Sarafan self be alerting the entire fortress to the fact of her existence? He _was_ the one to bring her here…unless…

If my past self loved Rayne enough to hide her from Moebius, I can't let the Time Streamer find out.

"You knew I would lead the Sarafan to Janos you vial b(beepbeep)! You've been orchestrating my every move!" He chuckles, "My destiny is an amusement to you?" I demand.

"It was fun, while it lasted." He says. I advance upon him. "I think not, Raziel." He says, and his guard moves forward with his glaive trained upon me. "Malek, do not let this creature leave. He poses a danger to the circle." I crouch into a defensive stance, "Poor, deluded, Raziel. Did you somehow imagine you had the guile to change history, on _me_? You shouldn't have left your Soul Singer behind, but even when she _was_ at your side, _I'm_ the Time Streamer, I knew your every intention before you did, you _imbecile_." Not one of his better insults, but at the very least I now _know_ he has no idea that Rayne is in the Stronghold. And _that_ is, at the very least, a comfort.

"Malek!" "Malek!" "Hahahaha! Call your dogs! They can feast on your corpses!" "MALEK!"

"Lord Moebius, there is trouble within!" Malek exclaims, "The circle is under attack—"

"Hold fast, Malek." Moebius says even as another scream goes up. "_This_ one is the _real_ danger to us."

"What are you trying to concoct here, Moebius?" I ask, slowly backing up towards the Reaver.

"You toxic creature, did you imagine I'd simply allow you to run loose? Corrupting anything you encounter?" Asks Moebius.

"I admit that I've underestimated you to _this_ point, Moebius." I say, and my hand grasps the Reaver's hilt, bringing it around to train upon the Time Streamer and his lap dog. "But it's a mistake I won't repeat!"

"Wrong again, Raziel." Moebius says, even as he backs up through the door, followed by Malek whose glaive is still trained upon me. "Now, Malek, bolt the door." He commands, and Malek does so, closing and locking the door before I am able to reach it, even at a run.

Using his staff to disable my wraith blade, Moebius effectively disarmed me, leaving me with only one choice of weapon. And yet, I confess, it was not the lack of options, but blind rage that made me take up the Reaver. In my fury, it felt as though my hand had acted of its own will. And now, that same hand clutches the hilt with unyealding strength, and I feel a constrained tingling, a remote but palpable sense of longing, as the disabled wraith blade tries vainly to embrace its physical twin.

I press onward, I will find Rayne, and reclaim the Heart of Darkness.

&Rayne's POV – Not long after Moebus encountered Raziel&

"Y-you. What—this is—you!" Moebius stammers out, a hand going to his mouth, his eyes bulging at the sight of me. I feel rage course through me like fire. It must show on my face too, for Moebius pales and takes a step back even as I shake my head, as though a simple action can get rid of it.

"Perfect." I growl, clasping the side of my face again and glaring at him.

"So you _didn't_ stay behind." He snarls, but a small smile slowly plays upon his lips as he looks me up and down, "But, my, you're not looking very well are you? Is it possible even Soul Singers can get sick?" He asks.

"F(beep) you, Moebius, I'm not sick I'm _tainted_ godd(beep) you! And if I find out you had anything to do with this…"

"You'll_ what_, exactly?" He asks, smirking broadly, "Yes I know you're tainted, that was obvious to me the moment I saw you. But you seem to be fighting the demon rather than accepting it, so, therefore, you are far too weak to make such threats. No I didn't have anything to do with _that_, precisely, but I'd like to thank whoever _did_. You see, even now Raziel is racing towards his destiny, but even if you could find him in time, there's nothing you can possibly do to change history. He _will_ become the Reaver, but I think you already knew that, didn't you?" He asks.

"You know Moebius, I really _hate_ it when—" I stop, I blink. _The Reaver…_ Moebius cocks an eyebrow at me.

The Reaver…in order to imprison Raziel's soul, it would have to be a vessel of some kind, one acutely attuned to his presence. But why? And how? If Raziel was never meant to have any destiny at all, and the Reaver was crafted, presumably before he was even born…what was it meant to hold? If Mychala Vel had followed tradition, had she _not_ given Raziel the Shaman's Eye, what, then, would have been the ravenous spirit trapped within? Would it have _been_ a spirit, or something else? Why would the Reaver seek Raziel?

That's it! It's not seeking Raziel at all! It is simply that Raziel possesses the most power and the greatest potential for what the Reaver was crafted to do. His being is simply _able_ to enter the Reaver, where humans and vampires could not, and thus the Reaver, seeking to fulfill its own purpose, will draw him within it. Urged on, no doubt, by the Wheal of Fate. But then, if that's the case, what was the blade originally suppose to hold as its core of power?

And then, the answer comes to me, so simple, so easy, I find myself starting to chuckle. I must seem mad, for Moebius takes a step back from me, brandishing his staff, not like it has any effect on me, and leering at me. "Actually, Moebius, you want to know something funny? I now know _exactly_ how to stop this. It never needed to be Raziel, that was simply the only way you could think to get rid of him. But if I complete the blade the way it was meant to be from the time of its creation…That, more than anything, will alter your carefully choreographed history, perhaps more drastically than can be fixed." I say.

"Even if, by some miracle, you've thought of some means to change this, it won't matter, because I won't let you leave this room." He says.

"And how are you going to stop me," I say, and I summon, to my hand, the completed Reaver from my own timeline, "when you're dead?" I ask.

I feel the Shaman's Eye within the Reaver and it infuses me with strength, but it is not in a form I can use to destroy the demon. And even if it were, I wouldn't, because I know now what can be done, what must be done, to save Raziel from his fate. I also sense the other Raziel, and feel an inexplicable jolt of emotion as his presence does more than reach out to me, it envelops me, almost as if he's entering my very body. The demon's presence recoils from this emotion, but Raziel has replaced it, lacing himself through my body, like the demon might, but he is far more welcome.

Something changed. Now that I possess the mark of the Shaman's Eye, even _this_ Reaver's power can flow into me. Perhaps I _could_ use it to rid myself of the demon, but right now, that's not my intention. Far from it.

Moebius's face registers shock, fear, and disbelief as he stares at the Reaver in my hand, not understanding the significance until it is too late. I lunge, and I plunge the blade into his chest, straight through into his heart and out the other side. "Goodbye, Moebius." I say as his staff drops to the floor.

"Y-you th-think this will really _change_ anything?" He gasps out. "My, master, has power over life and death! He will (Gasp) only bring me back!"

"Fine then, go to him. Go worship that giant squid you call a 'god'!" I snarl, jerking the Reaver out of his chest.

Infused with strength, and wishing I'd thought of this sooner, I rush onward. Hoping, praying to whatever _real_ god that might be listening, I won't be too late.

_Follow me._ Whispers a voice in my mind. Raziel?

Suddenly, inexplicably, and without truly understanding _why_, I _know_ where I need to go, where I need to be.

Just don't let me be too late!

&Raziel's POV&

As Melchiah and Zephon, my former brethren both in life and unlife, fall before my blade, I feel the Reaver's bloodthirst as keenly as I ever had when I was still a vampire. I can sense the boundary between us dissolving. The Reaver is consumed with my rage, and I am _intoxicated_ by its bloodlust! The blade has a vitalizing effect on me; my physical energy no longer decays over time, and the wounds inflicted by my foes heal almost instantly! The Reaver has made me _invincible_.

My former brethren Dumah and Rahab confront me next. This all seems so elegantly choreographed, exhilarated by the Reaver, I am _drunk_ with revelations. I can finally appreciate the delicious irony of Kain's blasphemous private joke. And I revel as I collude with him across the centuries. For it is _I_ who shall put these b(beepbeep)s in their tomb, thus providing the corpses for Kain to raise as his vampire sons, a millennium from now. They, too, fall to the Reaver's power, and I go on.

And here at last is my brother Turrel, who, along with Dumah, would bear me into the abyss without questioning Kain's command. So dutiful and righteous, even as a vampire. I guess some habits die hard. The vampire Turrel had eluded my vengeance. The Sarafan Turrel would not.

"So vampire, here we are," Says an all-too familiar face. "You've destroyed my brethren and now you've come for me. You'll find I'm not such easy prey."

"I don't want to kill you," A lie, I admit, but the truth of the matter is I am about to commit suicide, and the thought is rather morbid, "but I will if I must. Return the heart to me and we can end this now." I tell him.

"So, you've come to avenge that filthy parasite and reclaim his foul heart? You're a righteous fiend aren't you?" My human self asks.

"Apparently I am."

"No, Vampire, this _is_ where it ends. But you won't be leaving this room. Now, let's finish this. I'll make it mercifully quick." He says.

"As you did for Janos?" I demand.

He chuckles, "No, that beast had eluded us for far too long. It would have been a shame to end it too quickly. It's ironic really, the great Janos Audrin turned out to be no challenge at all." He says.

"And what about Rayne? What did you do with her? You know that if Moebius finds out she's here he'll have her executed." I tell him.

Something flashes across his eyes and his teeth clench, "So, you're the 'friend' she mentioned, are you? Well you won't find her here, or anywhere for that matter. She's already dead."

He's lying, either that, or he _thinks_ she's dead. I wonder which it is, "She's not so dead as you might think."

His eyes flash, "And how would _you_ know!?" He demands. Ah, so he _was_ lying, but why? To protect her? Or simply to keep me ignorant?

"If she were dead, I would know. Where is she?" I ask again.

"You shall not have her!" He declares, and he lunges.

I don't expect his attack, but it doesn't matter. Whatever damage he does to me…I can hardly even feel it.

&Rayne's POV&

I pass by bodies of Sarafan, running. One pair, another pair, an individual. Five Sarafan of some high rank, likely Priests, are dead, and I know who killed them. Their souls linger near their bodies, but not just tied either, they are fixated there, as if…knowing something, knowing they will be called back, and deciding to wait for that time. Their spirits look to me, as if asking me if I am their god come to raise them back from the dead. But…I have the sick feeling that I know who their real god is going to be. Did the empty Reaver do this? Does it have that kind of power? Or, perhaps, it is the Shaman's Eye which, knowing their eventual future, has kept them there for that purpose. If that's true, and these Sarafan will be raised, like Raziel, as vampires…that would explain why the Shaman's Eye does not resurrect the human Raziel.

And with this knowledge, I realize what is about to happen, what is happening now, even as I approach the sound of clattering blades and gasps of pain from a familiar voice.

I have banished my own Reaver, not wanting to enact another temporal distortion in case something goes horribly wrong and I end up straining history _too_ far this time. I rush forward, only just in time to witness what I had dreaded seeing all along.

Raziel, and Raziel. One human, the other a wraith. And the Soul Reaver, plunged into the chest of the human Raziel, as if his armor were nothing more than paper.

The human sees me enter the scene and freeze with a feeling of horror and, for some reason, the sense of being _too late_. "Rayne!" He gasps out, "Run!" And then, he is dead. Dead, but not gone. I can even see the fixation thread being set into place by the Shaman's Eye through the use of the Reaver. _This_ explains why the human Raziel was not resurrected, the wraith's Eye knew all along he would be resurrected another way, and seemed to tell the human's Eye not to bother.

Or, perhaps, Raziel's supposed 'destiny' has a hand in this, either way…

I'm too late.

No, no, NO! I WON'T ACCEPT THIS! "Raziel!" I gasp out, rushing forward, even as I see, for myself, the wraith blade extend over the physical blade, "Give me the Reaver! I can—"

"No, you, _can't_." An all-too familiar voice says in my ear as, without warning, a cloven hand comes out from almost nowhere and grasps me by the arm. I feel the familiar sense of another's psychic power coursing through me, freezing me in place.

But this time, this time I have no hope of fighting against it.

_No_…

"This is the transcendent moment of our salvation, _this_ is the edge of the coin, _this_ is what I have been waiting for. I will _not_ allow you to interfere." Kain's voice hisses, and I am forced to watch in horror as the entwined blades turn themselves upon Raziel. The sword cuts into his chest, humming with power, seeking to devour his entire core.

No…

"But…I…can…save…him…" I struggle out, I feel tears of blood falling down my cheeks, my heart pumping powerfully in my chest as I watch the semi-filled vacuum seek to make itself whole, to devour the rest, and not just Raziel's blade.

Kain moves forward.

"You!" Raziel gasps out, his voice choked with pain and the effort of resisting this gruesome fate, "Are you enjoying this Kain!?" he demands.

"Don't fight it, Raziel, give _in_ to it." Kain tells him.

"Was this, (gasp) your destiny for me all along!?" Raziel exclaims.

"No…" I meant to scream, but my voice comes out in barely a whisper.

"Trust me." Kain says.

And then, as Raziel slowly looses the strength to fight, I begin to feel a distortion. More than that, I can sense his twined soul, hovering both outside _and_ inside the Reaver. And I realize, suddenly, what Kain was talking about.

_This_ is the edge of the coin.

Kain grabs the Reaver, and pulls it out of Raziel. Raziel screams out, and I feel Kain's psychic bonds loosen enough for me to rush forward.

"Now you are free to reclaim your _true_ destiny Raziel!" Kain says triumphantly.

"You, IDIOT!" I gasp out, practically falling next to Raziel as I begin to feel history straining around us once more. My markings begin to burn, black with glowing red edges, and I clutch my chest, feeling the demon making its presence known.

Behind Kain's eyes I can see new memories blooming and dying as history labors to reshuffle itself around this monumental obstruction. Raziel struggles to stand, a cloven hand weekly reaching out to touch my hair before his legs nearly fail him and he almost falls again. I stand up, not much better off than him, but I can at least help. I put his arm around my shoulders and brace him as an expression of dawning horror crosses Kain's face. Perhaps we had strained history too far this time, that by trying to alter what history had written out, we may have introduced a fatal paradox.

"My god, the Hyldan!" Kain gasps. "We walked right into their trap!"

"_What_!?" I hiss. "The Hyldan _are_ behind all thi—" No…no that's not right. "_The Hyldan cursed Nosgoth to its doom out of pure spite, but not even they had the free will to choose their course of action. They were simply the tool, just as I am."_ They may be at the forefront, but they aren't the ones responsible for Nosgoth's decay. No, this was orchestrated by some other force, not just by the Hyldan.

Kain's ominous 'they' is _not_ the true enemy.

"Raziel!" Kain exclaims, grasping Raziel by the shoulders, "Janos must _stay_ dead!" He exclaims.

Kain's warning is lost, however, as Raziel slips into the Spectral Realm, out of sight, with no strength left to keep up his physical form. I try to follow him, but a pulsing shot of pain throbs through my body, and I remember why I used invisibility spells rather than another realm to get through the Sarafan.

"Where did he go? What happened?" Kain asks as I clutch my chest, staring at the place where Raziel exists, but only in the Spectral Realm.

"The Spectral Realm, I can't follow him like this." I say, straightening up and glaring at Kain, "You're an idiot." I say, but I don't have enough energy to get mad.

"If you would give me a chance I can explain my actions." Kain tells me, and he looks me up and down, "What happened to you?"

"Never mind that, I need the Reaver, _now_." I say, realizing just how close to the edge I am.

"For what purpose?" Kain asks me suspiciously.

"I'm going to complete it the way it was _meant_ to be completed." I answer. "_Without_ Raziel."


	24. Completion of the Blade

Deep inside I'm dying, deep inside I'm hiding

_Deep inside my every word a cry (Alone I cry)_

_Deep inside I'm heartless, deep inside regardless_

_Kill for me my every word a lie._

_Deep inside a child when tears and dreams go wild when_

_Deep inside comedian for life_

The Reaver hovers before me, the skull of the hilt in between my outstretched hands, the blade pointing at the ground as I begin to sing the demon out of my body,

And into _it_.

_Say will I die for you?_

_See I was always there to run_

_Will I deny for you?_

_The smiling scarecrow on your tongue_

_Say will I die for you?_

_See I was always there to run_

_Say will I die for you?_

The demon resists, I can hear it shrieking at me, snarling and choking upon my grasp. Pain laces through my body but I force myself to ignore it. The demon tries to integrate itself once more, but I focus my mind upon something specific, a certain someone that fills my core with an emotion it cannot stand. Its web-like extensions seem to sizzle and burn away as, slowly, but surely, I am tearing it from my own body in order to fill the void within the Reaver.

But a demon will not be enough, something else must enter the Reaver as well, bind with the demon, and become the palpable core of power that makes this blade so deadly.

Deep inside I'm dying, deep inside I'm hiding

_Speak to me the words of love and trust!_

_I feel distrust_

Burn for me my neon world to dust!

It needs a wraith, and a wraith I call.

_Say will I die for you?_

_See I was always there to run_

_Will I deny for you?_

_The smiling scarecrow on your tongue_

_Say will I die for you?_

_See I was always there to run_

Say will I die for you?

I raise my hands, the blade moves onto a horizontal position, as though laying flat upon an invisible alter, and I grasp the air with my hands. I pull the wraith, almost physically, from the Spectral Realm into the Physical one, and I hear Kain's gasp of horror as the creature shrieks and struggles, writhing in the agony of having no physical body, yet existing impossibly in the physical world. This act has never been encouraged, in fact, it is highly _discouraged_, as is what I'm about to do next, which is something I'm not sure has ever been done before.

And in the distance I'm alive

_And in the distance neon lights so far away from me_

_And in the distance I'm alive_

_And in the distant smile I'll pass on by_

_And cross the plans you made, the suns you burned the distance walks away_

I taint the wraith with the demon that had so recently tainted _me_. The two bodiless entities become one, a single being of power. The wraith resists as the demon fights for control. The demon resists as the wraith fights for control. They both resist the seamless merging that I am instigating between them. Creating a being of unique properties…but much like Raziel. A core of power—Raziel the deity, and now this, the demon—merged with a wraith.

The demon tries one last attempt to break free.

_Say will I die for you?_

See I was always there to run

Darkness engulfs the Reaver, so densely the blade cannot be seen. The blanket is so thick, and from it, a head seems to rise. Hair like oil covers the face, the flesh of shoulders are exposed, grotesque, blueish in color, scabbed, scarred, inhuman. The head raises, hair allows room for a single, bulging eye to be seen.

Will I deny for you?

_The smiling scarecrow on your tongue._

A female, and only now do I realize what this really was. A female demon. Her red eye seems to grin at me, as if she knows, as if she can sense my fears returning.

No, I will not allow this to stop me. I am stronger than this, I can overcome this. I _must_.

Say will I die for you?

_See I was always there to run._

Say will I die for you?

I grab the demon around the neck and it lets out a choked shriek. Its mouth, so human, yet it opens far too wide for the human jaw to have accomplished without breaking. "You will fear _me_ now." I say defiantly.

That single eye grows wide, the demon shrieks, but I push it down, down into the blade. It and the wraith merge, and the thick darkness is soaked into the blade, completing it, making it whole, and filling the void.

Raziel is no longer here, I don't know what's happened to him, and I have no more energy to worry about it. I fall, exhausted, but, at the very least, knowing that, finally, I've done something History cannot get around. Wherever Raziel is, he is safe from the Reaver, and, right now, that's all that matters. With my last bit of consciousness, I can feel history straining to reshuffle itself around this act, and I feel a smirk upon my lips, knowing, somehow, without any doubt, that this time, it will be unable to do any such thing.

"_**Unite me child, for my breath stokes the core of this world."**_

"**Wh-who are you? What are you?"**

"_**Don't be a fool! It is Mychala who is the traitor!"**_

"_**I am Nosgoth."**_

"_**The Wheal of Fate is our god! Bow to the Wheal and the Wheal will bow to you!"**_

"**I don't understand!"**

"_**Go. The Citadel of the Apostates awaits you."**_

"You may have saved your precious wraith, but in the end, it doesn't matter. You see, you were never meant to save this world, you are simply—"

I taste blood. Fresh, warm blood being poured slowly into my mouth, kept open by a surprisingly gentle claw. What doesn't reach my mouth soaks into my skin, and I feel strength from it, flowing into me. I feel…clear, clean, pure. For the first time since drinking Janos's blood, I am myself and only myself. I never knew how good simply being me could possibly feel, it'd be almost euphoric if I had the strength to experience that much emotion.

I swallow what blood I can as it continues to enter my mouth. Most of it, however, sinks into my skin. I can feel the source of the blood in my mind, and my magic begins drawing it out. A human screams in pain as I pull his blood directly from the heart and absorb the vitality of his life. When there is nothing left, Kain tosses the empty shell, and I open my eyes.

"Feeling better?" Kain asks, kneeling down beside me.

"Much." I answer, "Still week, but after _that_ simply being untainted is a definite improvement." I say, sitting up and putting a hand to my head to stave off the slight dizzy feeling I feel as my body protests my rising.

"Can all future vampires take blood through their flesh?" He asks me.

"No, that's my blood magic feeding itself through my skin. Soul Singers can gain power and vitality from live blood, but the heart must still be beating when _Soul Singers_ take it, otherwise it does nothing but feed my vampire body." I explain. I look around, and find myself in a very familiar cave. I'm not sure how Kain managed to bring us up here, but I decide not to ask. I'm not sure I want to know, but at least we're safe from any human invasion so high up.

"I don't suppose you're going to explain what you did, are you?" He asks, producing the Soul Reaver from his back to indicate _exactly_ what he means by 'what you did'.

"It never had to be Raziel's being that became the Reaver's core of power." I answer, "Point of fact, it was never _meant_ to be him. Raziel _has no destiny_, Kain. His only destiny was to die at birth, and the fact that he didn't is what makes him so unique, along with the artifact which saved him from _that_ fate. A treasure called the Shaman's Eye. The reason the blade was so keen to absorb Raziel is because his makeup is _exactly_ the sort of thing that was meant to enter the blade, and he had such high potential that the blade itself seemed to consciously want its core of power to be _him_, when its _true_ core was suppose to be _exactly_ what I just used to complete the blade. A wraith to devour souls, tainted by the very demon that was inside of me. Raziel was turned into a wraith, that much is certain, but he would have risen from death either way because of the artifact that saved his life the first time. Raziel, as the…'deity', this artifact has made him, coupled with the wraith he was turned into, was twisted into the kind of being that the Reaver needed to complete itself. But it was _never suppose to be him specifically_. This was simply a convenient way to get rid of the creature he had become." I explain.

"A god…" Kain breathes, his eyes widening at the idea.

"That's…the _kindest_ way of describing what he is. Deity, Undying, Titan, but, most accurately, 'Incarnate'." I say, sighing as I dip into my own stores of preserved blood and start drinking directly from my canteen. It doesn't help my blood magic, but right now I'm concerned more about my body's strength than anything else.

"And you just prevented him from ever becoming the Reaver's core?" Kain asks, as if wanting to clear this matter.

"That's right. A completed Reaver needs no core, and nothing can remove that core now, so even if you stuck the blade into Raziel again, it won't be able to absorb him, but in a way the blade is now stronger _because_ it is weaker." I say.

Kain eyes me beadily and with no small amount of doubt, "Explain." He says.

"It's simple, really. The Shaman's Eye may be an artifact of some divine power, but you couldn't _use_ that power to save your life. You could use what power the blade itself was able to hold, but only a Master Soul Singer would have had the ability to tap into the immense power that is the Shaman's Eye. And even _then_. The way it is forged makes using the Eye properly awkward and more difficult. Further more the only one capable of using the Shaman's Eye is the one chosen to be its Guardian, or, if you want to continue with the idea of a deity, it's Avatar. And the Avatar of the Shaman's Eye is the Matron of the Soul Singers, _or_ the Matron's next-in-line, the Heir Apparent." I tell him, "So, as Raziel _is_, in a sense, the Shaman's Eye, you could say I am _Raziel's_ Avatar." I explain.

"But because Raziel is not a Master Soul Singer, and could neither become a Soul Singer as he is male, he cannot use this power himself, correct? He would need _you_ for this." Kain deduces, and I nod.

"That's what Mychala Vel meant when she said she was giving me the best tool she could making me her heir. She was verbally marking me as the next Avatar for the Shaman's Eye." I explain.

"But one question remains; how did Raziel obtain, or _become_, this 'Shaman's Eye' in the first place?" he asks.

I sigh, "Look, I've barely told Raziel even this much, and I definitely haven't told him _that_, so I'm not going to tell _you_. It doesn't _matter_ how or _why_ he's become the Shaman's Eye, because, for all intensive purposes, _that_ was never suppose to happen. That act in and of itself likely strained History drastically when it happened, and now History is simply finding the path of least resistance, _including_ Raziel, forcing him to fulfill some prophesy or whatnot, and then getting rid of him using the Reaver, which _is_ a part of history. But now that this option is no longer available, there's no other real way of destroying Raziel. The only method is to simply trap him, and that's likely what happened. But not even traps can last forever. He'll get out, whether I have to dig my way to hell and back using only my teeth and nails or he finds his own way out himself." I explain, finishing off my fifth canteen and finding myself tempted to drink the rest of my stores. I resist, however, knowing that I'll have to build them back up in case something like this happens again.

"So is that what you intend to do now?" Kain asks.

"No, not yet. I have to go to the Citadel of the Apostates. Janos Audrin gave me the key to a library where he says was stored books by the Soul Singers." I say, fingering the earring. "I think they're for me. I guess I'll find out. What about you?" I ask.

"I intend to find Raziel and whatever prison he has been trapped inside." He answers. I raise an eyebrow.

"Yeah? How?" I ask, and he smirks.

"I think Moebius may have some idea of where he is." He answers.

"Er, that's going to be a problem." I confess, and now it's _his_ turn to raise one of those hairless eyebrows of his.

"How's that?"

"I kind of killed him." I answer.

"You 'kind of' killed him?" He repeats.

"He'll probably come back to life seeing as how he's suppose to lead that militia army against the vampires in the future, but yes, I killed him. And it, felt, good." I say. "Almost as good as killing you probably would." I add thoughtfully.

"Oh don't tell me you still hate me." He says with a sigh, "Even after I brought you to safety and everything? You _are_ ungrateful."

"Kain, that fact is never going to change, the only difference now is that I've decided to do the mature thing and not let my personal feelings cloud my judgment. I am going to hate you until I am dead and rotting in the ground. If someone were to raise my corpse back to life, that darkling would hate you still. I am tolerating you and explaining these things to you out of pure necessity. It would be bad if you continued trying to usher Raziel onto any specific path because his ability to choose his own fate is very important to all of this." I explain.

"How is that, precisely? I understand he is significant for this reason, but you give me the impression that there is more to your words than that simple fact." He says.

"It's because…he is the first, to be free from the Wheal of Fate. And…I don't intend for him to be the last." My own voice is ominously low, even to my own ears, and I realize, even as I'm saying those words, they are the full truth.

"Do you really think that's something you can _do_?" Kain asks, his voice low and slightly horse, his eyes boring intensely into mine.

I find myself smirking, "If I can, I _will_. Though while the Wheal of Fate can't stop me, I imagine your ominous 'they' will certainly _try_." I tell him.

"You mustn't underestimate the Hyldan. If Raziel returns the Heart of Darkness to Janos, they'll have won." He explains. "They will use Janos Audrin's blood to build for themselves a gate into our world. The downfall of the pillars is not enough for them to be truly free, but it makes their freedom possible." He says.

I stare at him, "_What_? But I thought the only thing keeping the Hyldan at bay was…but is that all the Pillars do?" I demand, "Just make it a bit more impossible for them to escape!? That's _it_?"

"Of course that's not _it_ you fool! The Pillars are directly connected to Nosgoth itself. They are the foundation upon which our world stands, they protect this world, nurture it. But as they were crafted by vampires, they can only be truly served by vampires, and it is the human corruption which causes them to crumble and the binding to weaken enough for the Hyldan Lord to come through. A little over 7 centuries from now I will confront this Lord and destroy the machine he built, closing the gate that allowed the Hyldan they're entry into Nosgoth. But the damage will have been done, the fall of the pillars, as well as the hyldan themselves, will curse this land." He tells me. "_That_ is why the pillars must be restored if this land is to be saved."

"I don't understand…" I murmur, "I know that the Pillars cannot last forever, I believed they were merely a temporary fix to the problem the Hylden created…was I wrong? I don't know, I still feel as though trying to restore the Pillars is what they _want_ us to do to distract us from some other purpose…" I say, talking more to myself than to Kain. "The vampires didn't create the pillars, they merely summoned them with the help of Mychala Vel. But if that's true, then the Pillars already existed somewhere. Were they meant to seal the Hylden away, or is there another purpose?"

"The purpose of the pillars is to protect Nosgoth and make it flourish. They kept the Hylden sealed because the Hylden are a threat to Nosgoth, but their full purpose is not solely to keep the Hylden at bay." Kain explains.

"If that's true, and if it is also true that the vampires merely _summoned_ the pillars rather than create them, then who _did_ create the pillars, and what purpose did _they_ have in mind? To protect Nosgoth forever? Or to simply heal the land then return to wherever they were summoned until needed again? What if…what if the pillars were never meant to be used for this long? What if they _are_ suppose to be temporary, but instead of being destroyed, they simply need to be banished? But they can't _be_ banished because then the Hyldan would be able to get loose, and the knowledge of how to do it has been lost over the centuries, even by the Soul Singers?" I ask, and I start chewing on my thumbnail.

"So do you agree, then, that the pillars need to be restored?" Kain asks.

"Yes, but they also need to be banished, because nothing is meant to last forever. Keeping Nosgoth 'healthy' for so long strained them, I think. So, either way, we must also find another way to solve the Hylden problem. And combat the one pulling the strings." I say.

"The Hylden _are_ pulling the strings, I'm afraid." Kain tells me.

"No, the Hylden are tools just as Moebius is." I say, "They…" I stop, as, quite suddenly, I feel a sort of revelation bubble to the surface. "Kain, would you say that…it'd take a being of _more_ power to get through the barrier the Pillars represent…or that, this barrier, focuses more upon subduing those _with_ the greater power, thus allowing the weaker creatures to get through as they begin to crumble and become corrupted?" I ask him.

"I would think it'd take a far more powerful creature to get through…why?" Kain asks.

"Did you know there are two types of Hylden? There's the higher breeds and the helot breeds. The helot breeds are, or were, treated more or less like animals of labor for the higher masters. Do you also know, that a demon cannot exist in this realm without a body? The most powerful demons can create ones themselves, but they cannot enter this world through the Abyss, only the lesser demons are even _able_ to get from hell into the abyss, because the gate is like that. It focuses on keeping the stronger ones out, the stronger, the harder. So what if the gate between the Abyss and Nosgoth is just like that? You've seen the monsters that come to ravage this land in Nosgoth's future of around 6 to 7 centuries from now, those creatures are demons, full demons that have completely taken over the bodies of their hosts and twisted them into their own shapes. But even those shapes couldn't have been human in the first place, the bodies for those demons were neither human nor vampire, and while it's possible that some other force was creating those bodies for them…_I_ think it's likely, no, more than likely, that the demons which come to stalk these grounds…are actually using bodies of the Hylden's Helot breed. That means that, even before the pillars fell, the Hylden were able to send their helots, tainted into submission, to this land to intact their will. Of course, when first _I_ had to deal with them, the pillars had just become corrupt. Still, the fact that they put so much effort and sent a near army of demons after me suggests I can and, probably, _have_ poked holes in their careful plans and plots." I explain.

Kain grins. It's not a nice grin, to be sure. Dark and sardonically triumphant, but I could probably share that with him in this case. "I'd say you _have_." He says, gesturing to the Reaver. "When you completed the blade, only a few of my memories shifted, but those memories are slowly fading, as though they are awaiting another monumental shifting. History is trying to be rid of me, that much is certain. But I don't know that history even has the _ability_ to rid itself of you as an irritant. If it could have stopped you from completing the blade without Raziel, it would have. But it couldn't. However, one memory of mine remains the same and I can't help but wonder why. In our past, I struck Raziel with the Reaver and it shattered due to the paradox of the Reaver being unable to strike down its own soul. The Reaver still shatters, and the spectral form of the blade still enters Raziel, why is that?" He asks.

"You think even a tainted wraith can stand up to the Shaman's Eye? Because the blade is no longer the Shaman's Eye, it _can_ be destroyed, not easily, but it's possible without something as drastic as a paradox. Though, I'd say, only something as powerful as the Eye would be able to do so. Thus, Raziel still gains the wraith blade and…" I stop, blinking, and I start thinking hard.

"And?" Kain presses after a few moments' pause.

"And his soul is no longer twinned and bound to him. If this change has actually occurred, then the ravenous devouring soul within the blade is simply that and nothing more. Raziel now has a weapon that is not his own soul but separate from him. Of course…there is always the chance that it _is_." I say, considering.

"How is that? I thought you said your completion of the blade would prevent Raziel from being trapped?" He demands.

"Because I have," I summon the Reaver in my possession, "the Reaver from the past of _my_ timeline. So now the question becomes; is it _this_ Reaver which will strike Raziel, or that one?" I ask, laying the blade across my lap and staring down at it. The soul within reaches out and once more the power of the Shaman's Eye enters my body, as does Raziel. I feel as though he is almost embracing me as my markings appear, burning the hot blue of the Shaman's Eye itself, my eyes darkening and becoming ecliptic once more. Kain stares at me.

"Your eyes…they're like that woman's now. Why is that?" Kain asks, but I shrug.

"It has something to do with coming into contact with the Shaman's Eye and using its power. I'm hoping mine don't become permanent like hers, though. It'd kind of be hard to portray myself as a human if they stayed."

"And the Reaver? How did you get it?" Kain asks, and I roll my eyes.

"_You_ gave it to me. How do you _think_ I got it? The you of _my_ past-future time from which I absorbed your blood thought it might be the key to changing the fate of this world. But I wonder if he, or you, was right. Perhaps this Reaver shouldn't exist at all, perhaps it's the Reaver, completed the way it was meant to be done, is the key instead. But, at least with this, I have another Shaman's Eye at my disposal, even if it _is_ awkward to use." I explain. "But we have to figure out whether this one or that one strikes Raziel, and if the outcome of it being _that_ one would be any better." I say.

"Perhaps you will find your answers in this Citadel of yours. For now, however, I will be keeping _this_ blade. I hope that is acceptable." Yeah, like he'd tolerate it if it _wasn't_.

"That f(beep)ing demon was _tainting_ me, you really think I'd want to have any more to do with that blade than is strictly necessary? So far as I'm concerned it's yours. If History really is going to find the path of least resistance and force us along that path, it may just be _this_ blade that will have to strike Raziel…in fact, that may just be the best course of action to take." I say. The Raziel in this blade would be able to rejoin himself in a sense, and if the blade was _un_-forged somehow…could the two souls become one again? Could the Raziel in this blade be freed and the duel Eyes become a single? But…perhaps I'm thinking too far into this. At the very least, this Raziel would no longer be a sword and would be closer to himself. "Where does the Reaver need to end up for it to play out its role in history?" I ask Kain.

"Avernus Cathedral." He answers.

"When?" I ask.

"Sometime in this era I believe. You may have a window of a few years." He tells me.

"Then," I say, "when all this is over, I will take _this_ blade to the Cathedral, and it will play out its role as the Reaver, _without_ the Raziel of _this_ timeline. It may even be best if I returned it to the Sarafan sooner rather than later just in case. What?" I demand as Kain shakes his head at me.

"I cannot see how it is possible that you could simply give up such power." He tells me.

"Simple, I'll be getting it back as soon as I find Raziel again." I answer.

"And if you become separated again?" He questions.

"As long as I don't get freak'n _tainted_ again it shouldn't be a problem." I sigh and cross my arms over my chest, "I'll likely be reading up on summoning and banishing demons while I'm in the Citadel as well." I say, biting the inside of my cheek. But, strangely enough, the irrational fear I once suffered at the very _thought_ of a demon…it's been blunted, perceptively. The thought that I will, in fact, be facing more…it doesn't make me panic like it use to. I suppose facing such a powerful disembodied female like that makes all the lesser males using helot Hyldan bodies less intimidating than before. I will, however, be forever disturbed by the tainted stalks of grass that were tromping around the swamp, but at least I feel I can face them on my own for once. Well, even if I can't, I'll have to. I don't have Raziel to fall back on anymore, and I won't have the Reaver once I somehow 'accidentally' drop it back into the hands of the Sarafan. But perhaps that can wait until I've brushed up on my demonology.

Of course, I could always find Mychala Vel to help me.

"Will that prevent another tainting?" He asks me.

"Hopefully." I answer, my brow furrowing, "I just wish I knew how I got tainted in the _first_ place. So far as I can tell, I was weakened dramatically by drinking Janos Audrin's blood, which shouldn't have effected me anyway since the Cardikamon so that's a mystery all its own, but just being weakened isn't enough for a tainting like that unless a gate had opened up right next to my ear or something." I begin to pace back and forth within the cave. "But the pillars should prevent that from happening. Gates to the abyss don't open on their own, not in _this_ time, and even in mine there's got to be a lot of negative energy congregated for that to happen. What's more, the demon that was tainting me was exceptionally powerful." I say.

"Is it likely to happen again?" He questions.

"Well that depends,"

"On?"

"Just who, or _what_, was trying to get me out of the way, and just how desperate they are. Unfortunately, the fact that the tainting was even attempted means whoever it is, is very desperate indeed. And very, _very_ powerful. _How_ they got to me like that, I have no idea, but I intend to find out." I tell him.

"I do have a theory if you care to hear it." He says, standing up.

"What's that?" I ask, believing I already know what he's going to say.

"The Hyldan." He states. I roll my eyes.

"This is human magic, Kain. A vampire couldn't have done this to me and neither could a Hyldan. They'd have to have had a So—" I stop dead. Color leaves my face as my eyes widen, becoming unfocused as my attention is drawn inward and the realization sends a stab of horror through my very bones. The Reaver drops to the ground and clatters upon the hard, stone-like surface.

I remember now, clean as I am of the demon, I am able to remember without any present crisis to focus my mind upon. The numbness of mind induced by the Shaman's Eye, a defense of some kind, as if there were something there, something _worse_ than the demon inside me. Some violet light, and a voice, a voice I heard in my dreams as well as in that moment.

"It's futile, child. Give in now, and you will be as my daughter. Resist overlong, and you will be little more than the mindless slaves you have been fighting against."

The one who tainted me,

Was Klossa Vel.


End file.
